Despite some significant moments of relaxation during our trip it felt like I had none, post-vacation exhaustion hitting me harder than a bag of bricks when we returned. Taehyung had to practically drag me out of bed for work after the weekend and as soon as I returned in the evening I crashed on the sofa without changing out of my work attire.

With fashion week in Milan and then Paris around the corner work was extra busy. I'd been invited to photograph a show in both cities, planning for Faye's arrival during the first week and traveling to France after. Jungkook was completely immersed in the commissions that grew as the second half of the year approached and the nighttime project he still insisted on keeping a secret. Taehyung split himself between work and taking on personal styling jobs with the start of the fall fashion season.

The hectic few weeks that passed since Sicily made it feel like a distant memory. Taehyung was away, traveling for the sole purpose of shopping and spending the night with a friend on his weekday off. While he packed, Jungkook and I sat on the couch, my legs stretched out so that I was able to tuck my feet under his thigh to keep warm. He leaned closer to the arm of the chair, shifting his eyes to me ever so often as he sketched in a plain black pad.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" He asked, tapping his pencil against the notebook.

I looked up from my phone with a raised brow, my schedule unchanged every Tuesday since I started working. "I'll be working, Kookie. Why?"

"I mean do you have a photoshoot or anything?" He tucked his sketchpad into the crevice of the chair, leaning over so that he was nestled between my legs. I shook my head, putting down my phone to drape an arm over his shoulder to his chest. "Call out." He muttered, words muffled with his head against my chest.

"I can't. I still have a few errands I'll need to run. Margo's dress for the Versace show will be ready for pickup and–" I started.

He cut me off with a kiss, full eyes batting at me with his dispute. "We can make time to pick up the dress and whatever else. I have stuff I'll need to do too, but I want to spend the day with you." He mushed his face into the crook of my neck. "Please, Taehyung gets Paris so I deserve a day."

Margo was flexible with me, especially since I would be sure to fulfill a few tasks throughout the day. I saw Taehyung to his cab, kissing him goodbye before starting my morning by picking up coffee and breakfast to-go. I set the box of pastries and cups on the counter, peeking into the bedroom to see Jungkook unmoved from his position in bed.

I crawled back into bed with him, a tired moan escaping his lips when I scratched gently across his back. "I brought breakfast." I giggled between my words, his lips flitting near my collar and fingertips moving about my waist.

"Not yet," he blinked open those sleepy eyes, tugging me closer to him so that my leg wrapped around him, "if we go out there you'll do something like send emails." He chuckled.

We spent the rest of the morning making out in bed, touching each other through our clothes like teenagers struck by infatuation.

By the time we finished the coffee had cooled too much to drink. I heated two danishes and joined Jungkook at the kitchen island, squealing when he pulled at the seat of the barstool I sat on so that I was close enough for him to continue giving fruit-flavored kisses as we ate.

I did end up sending emails while he washed up and dressed. When we exchanged places he grabbed the grocery list from the refrigerator, jotting down a few more items.

"Where to first?" I inquired, looking over his shoulder.

"Art supplies, pick up after party invitations, Nonna's, groceries, Margo's dress, and then you'll see." He recited our tasks for the entire day.

I dressed comfortably for a day out in the city, slipping into my favorite sneakers for the amount of walking ahead. It was close enough to autumn that the temperature was the perfect warmth. Jungkook held onto my hand, leading the way to the art supply store he frequented. I noticed that the owner greeted him by name and he knew every section of the store. On the same strip of businesses we stopped to pick up the fashion week after party invitations I helped design for Margo. He was starkly different, quiet and reserved as I finished my errand.

He stuffed our goods into the empty backpack he carried, telling me about the oddest commission he ever received, of a man-bunny hybrid.

We picked up lunch to have with the woman he only referred to as "Nonna." He huffed dramatically when she hugged me first before claiming for himself that she'd saved the best for last. She kept a beautiful back patio, plants and flowers lining the ground and a small table with a view of the buildings across the street. Jungkook convinced her to let him pick a bundle of flowers from her garden, and while we ate sandwiches she told me the story of meeting her husband at the end of the Korean War.

"Italy was the only non-member state to send aid to Korea. I was a nurse at the time and he came in as my patient, one of the first when we arrived. We didn't think he would make it and after removing the bullet fragments from his chest he remained unconscious. Three days went by. I took care of him and was the first person he saw when he woke. We struggled to communicate since we spoke little of the other's language, but we both knew there was something there. For a while we didn't need many words, we both loved silent movies and dancing to music, the most universal language." She detailed. "We worked on it. He learned and practiced Italian while he recovered and it allowed us to get to know each other more. It was an easy love until it was over. With the war done and everyone either dead or recovered it was over."

Jungkook squeezed my hand, obviously having heard the story before. "Don't do the dramatic pause, she loves happy endings." He rushed, earning a slap on the arm and thigh from both of us for interjecting.

"We made an agreement. We would meet again when he had the means to move to Italy. We would wait, study each other's languages, learn each other's culture, write letters, and become the best versions of ourselves for each other. We didn't know how long it would take but we agreed." She continued.

"How long did it take?" I wondered, I was already buzzing with those same feelings I got from the dramas Taehyung and I were hooked on.

She sighed. "It took too long. We both stopped writing as much and my best friend set me up with a guy from our neighborhood. He was nice enough and I loved him enough. I got pregnant and back then if you got pregnant you got married. I was with George for three years when he died. That's something you never get over, but four years later there was a knock on my door. It was Young-Soo. He came to me as we agreed, as his best self. I wasn't anywhere close to my best self, but he loved me anyway." She dabbed at the tear that pooled at the corner of her eye. "I always get carried away with that one. I'm supposed to stop at the part about music but it's Jungkook's favorite."

"It's beautiful." I acknowledged.

She excused us for the afternoon to tune into her midday shows, Jungkook checking her refrigerator one more time to assess for items she might need before we left.

The market we visited to pick up ingredients for dinner offered a similar experience to the art supply store. I followed behind him with a small basket as he selected fresh vegetables, meat, and bread. I fought with him until he let me wear his backpack, his hands full with paper bags and the garment bag we picked up hanging over his shoulder.

He moved straight into food prep when we returned home, only letting me find a vase for the flowers he gathered. I stood over the sink, trimming stems and leaves until I was satisfied, setting the small, colorful bouquet at the center of the dining table.

My mouth watered at the smell of the steak and sides he prepared and I lingered around the kitchen for every opportunity at a small taste. We ate in silence across from each other but something lingered in the air between us. I wasn't sure what it was but it made me feel full all over, my sight trained on the purse of his lips against his fork and the way his eyes dropped to his plate when I caught him looking at me the same.

We finished with a heated transition to the bedroom, ending the night in each other's arms and completely spent of energy. That was, until he woke me again a couple of hours later.

I grumbled as he called out my name in a whisper, pleading for me to open my eyes. He moved me to the edge of the bed like I was a child protesting getting up for school, handing me a pair of leggings to wear with my t-shirt. "Our day isn't over." He somehow held the liveliness I possessed only after a full night's sleep and my morning espresso.

"Can't you do this part without me? I have to be up for work soon." I squinted at the alarm clock.

"I need you for this tonight." He kneeled, taking over to pull my feet through each leg of the pants, chuckling as he held me up and pulled the waistband over my hips. "Come on, baby. I promise it'll be worth it." He pecked my mouth, giving me a few minutes to fully wake while he made sure he had the paint he needed.

I wore one of his hoodies for an extra layer of warmth since the night was cooler. The city was the quietest I'd ever seen it, few people on the streets and every business dark inside. He spoke to a few guys who spray painted the side of a building with graffiti and held me closer than when we walked during the day, headed in a direction I didn't recognize.

He stopped at one corner, looking back and forth as if someone would be after us before turning down a final street toward Sempione Park. We walked along one of the deserted paths and when the image came into view I halted my step, looking at the beige wall that should have been empty.

I recognized the style of portraiture immediately, recalling the elderly woman and full-cheeked man painted near the street I shopped on the day I got lost in the city. Only this was my face, sprawled against a stone wall nearly complete and more beautiful than I'd ever seen myself.

"I haven't been able to get your nose right. I finally sketched it perfectly yesterday when you were sitting across from me so I thought it'd help if you were with me so I can finish." He pulled me nearer to the wall, a smirk on his lips at my speechlessness. "Just stand here." He set his bag on the ground, squatting to pull out the brushes and paint he would use.

I'd been staring at the artwork of my face for a while before speaking again. "Jungkook." I breathed. "I–"

"I'm almost finished. It helps if you stay still." He tapped the end of his paintbrush against my cheek playfully, leaving behind a small dot the same color as my skin. While he perfected my nose, focused and meticulous, he told me about the project. It started soon after he arrived in Milan as he struggled to adjust and meet new people. He was shy and slow to approach others but was often taken with the glimmer of beauty in the aged skin of a woman far beyond his years, in the laugh of a man dining with his family, and countless others. He confessed that he knew he would paint me from the moment he turned the corner to find me standing in the apartment doorway on my first day in Milan, and that he'd never been more upset than when his progress was destroyed.

I listened while he recalled his hunt for the perfect spot, initially placed at a side street that led to some of the city's most famous museums. He transitioned to the park after the first painting was covered, stepping away from his work as he put a final highlight on the ball of my nose.

"There," he crossed his arms over his chest in satisfaction, "what do you think?"

I barely registered his question, brimming with tenderness and finally able to finish the sentiment that'd been on the tip of my tongue all night. "I'm so in love with you."

The paintbrush between his fingers clattered to the ground with my words. I felt weightless as he pulled me to him, my heels lifting from the ground and his shoulders curved to meet my mouth.

We broke our kiss at the sound of a high-pitched whistle, Jungkook's eyes wide as he glanced to our right, two officers waving flashlights and charging toward us.

"Run." He took my hand, darting under the Arco della Pace and through the dewy grass of the park. We ran together until we were at the other side, an exit into the city just ahead. I glanced back to see that one of the officers gave up, the other not far behind us and intent on nabbing the artist who'd been defaming, or rather adorning public property with portraits for the past year.

I ran aimlessly next to him, too fast to check street signs or know where we were. He turned corners until the pair of footsteps trailing us were a quiet pitter.

He pulled me into an empty alleyway, my back against a brick wall and body pounding with adrenaline as the officer hurried past where we hid. Jungkook held my gaze, listening to the fading rhythm of the officer's feet before closing the space between us again despite the heavy breaths we took and with his reply. "I'm in love with you too."