His sketchpad had been filled with his image, sheets of large canvas paper decorated the floors of his room. 

They were mainly sketches and a few paintings here and there. Nothing he could ever draw would give the pretty boy justice. 

He was obsessed, he couldn't explain why he felt his fingers itch for his pencil every time their eyes met. 

He had so many portraits of him but there still weren't enough. He needed every emotion. He wanted to draw him angry, heartbroken, happy, exhilarated, in love, lustful- everything. 

Meanwhile, Jungkook's friends teased him, asking him why he let the weird artist boy draw him constantly. He yelled at them, simultaneously asking himself why he stood up for a boy he hardly ever talked to. 

He told him he was beautiful but he already knew it, he knew how badly every girl and boy alike wanted him. 

What he didn't know was that the boy wasn't in love with him at all, he was art to him, just art, something to be admired and looked at but nothing further. 

He was too cocky when he would let Taehyung draw him, muttering things about how he bet he'd rather be all over him than ten feet away. 

The boy had never answered, only continued to sketch out his perfect face, his smooth neck and prominent collarbone. 

The next day before they met again, Taehyung had stood in front of his mirror for over an hour, trying to prepare himself for what he was going to ask him. 

He wanted to draw him naturally.

In the flesh.

Naked, with a dark blanket draped across his waist.