JEONGGUK finds himself restless, back pressed against his solid oak floor one moment, only to be propped up against his sofa the next. Why won't his god forsaken brain just begin to work once more? Why can't he draw some inspiration from the abundance of rain clouds that seem to be situated over his life?

Fucking rain.

He can't stand it. Hates the sound, the smell, the dampness on his skin. So why did he decide a studio apartment with greedily big windows, flourishing views and a height to gawk at would be a good idea?

Seoul is not a place for people of expensive tastes who dislike such weather. It mocks them. Every streetlight mocks his furrowed brows as they send a sheen of light that only draws his drowsy attention to the the pavement.

He can hear the patter now. All over his roof, trying in the most obvious manner to speed up his journey to utmost insanity. And he'll get there alright. Soon, in fact. He's just snapped another pencil.

"For God's sake," The brunette mutters beneath his hot breath, standing up from the tiles of his open planned kitchen and leaving both his paper and newly-destructed pencil in his shadow.

The refrigerator to his left seems the most appealing thing to him now. That, and his phone in his back pocket, which seems to come alive the second his mind feels the slightest bit more at ease, not having the God forsaken blank canvas in front of him.

He leaves his phone alone for a while longer though, allowing himself the comfort of a cold bottle of water and taking a seat at the island, finally daring to see just what his phone concluded as important now.

It was of course Min Yoongi— the only man that would possibly be awake along with Jeongguk at 2 am on a Wednesday.

They call him an insomniac, but Jeongguk is more than aware that the man is simply troubled; burdened with the routine of a life that he just wants to break free of. That is not all, of course. Yoongi is a complex man. One which Jeongguk had not yet found the time to work out.

MINYOONGI
jeongguk? i'm guessing
you're awake. i really
need a favour.

And as per usual, the brunette finds himself inclined to swipe away the notification, burry his phone back into his pocket and claim the next morning to have been taken by sleep, but Yoongi wasn't one to ask for help needlessly. Who would he be to deny his friend his assistance after all this time?

JEONJEONGGUK
There's an issue?

MINYOONGI
not as such. more so an
opportunity. you see, i've
accidentally ended up on
the receiving end of
namjoon's 'mailing list' if
you catch my drift.

i thought it was pretty weird
to get a message from him out
of the blue, so, me being me, i
clicked on the link he sent with
out much thought at all.

but curiosity did not in fact
'kill the cat' this time, jeongguk,
i assure you. in fact, i do believe
i may just have revived it, so to
speak.

JEONJEONGGUK
what are you on about?
where do i come into a situation
beginning with kim namjoon?

MINYOONGI
i thought perhaps... in the least
intrusive way possible, that this
may be of use to you.

JEONJEONGGUK
use? you've completely lost me.
what exactly did namjoon send
you?

MINYOONGI
let me finish, jeongguk.

i know you're lacking in inspiration
now, but i've seen some of your
older works. i don't think you
should give up on them for other's
perspectives on appropriateness.

Already, Jeongguk is regretting ever responding to the message. Any type of link Kim Namjoon could have sent to Yoongi is not something he wants to share in the knowledge of. Especially not one that relates even somewhat closely to his old art.

Alas, there he sees in front of him a blue hyperlink, all decked out in mystery and an impending sense of Namjoon sent this. Kim Namjoon. Namjoon that once had to throw away all of his hard drives due to a virus he got through downloading porn.

But today, Jeongguk's brain has almost been reduced to mush. With the sound of the rain, the frustration of his mental block, and the tiredness of all of his sleepless nights crashing down on him, he clicks the link and is brought further into instagram: an app on which he never spends much time at all.

His eyes have barely begun taking in the username he's presented with before he looks to the profile picture. Twinkling eyes, an undoubtable attractiveness set on his features, hair that looks soft to the touch and something else. Something alluring.

Most importantly, the account is currently live.

The stars seem to have aligned all for this moment as he clicks on the icon. It's as though he's been destined to fall into this rut. Into this melancholy weather. Into this pit of talking to Yoongi about Namjoon, all for this moment.

And yes, that's probably foolish. Stupid to even entertain the idea of, but Jeongguk wills himself to believe it if only to save his poor brain from admitting that this is really it. This is really how bleak his life has become.

The same eyes greet him as those piercing ones from the icon, glistening in the darkness of the boy's location. He seems to be laid on his side. On a bed, perhaps. Some long strands of his blonde hair fall into his face, almost drawing Jeongguk into the image, encouraging him to gaze past, deep into these earthy eyes that are sad and tired, but fighting to appear otherwise.

"I can't sleep," The man whispers.

And it's staple to Jeongguk then as he sits better on his stool, twisting to face the counter so he can lean over his phone and make out every word, that the blonde is simply not of this earth.

Not in some fantastical, romantic manner does he conclude that, but in the way that the man does not seem like the everyday type of person who Jeongguk might meet in a cafe or pass on the street— no, this man is rare. He's not someone you can glance at by chance.

It's all just soft breathing and slow motions of the boy's eyes fluttering open and closed as he seems to read the comments. Nothing written there corresponds to the problem at hand. He can't sleep. He doesn't want to fuck, doesn't want to send nudes, nor does he want to go to anyone's house. Or, at least, Jeongguk assumes so.

All the audience seem caught up in is whether or not the boy is wearing underwear.

Jeongguk finds himself mad at that, unaware of why this is a topic at all, let alone such a popular one. Out of the 48,561 viewers, not a single one has spoken to him as a person. It really angers Jeongguk to know such a thing is going on, and so he begins typing faster than his mind can process.

@ jeongguk just close your eyes, blossom. you'll fall asleep soon enough, don't worry. whatever's troubling you won't last forever.

And he doesn't really know why he's sent what he has, but he feels as though it's at least more reassuring than anyone else's comments and presents the man with something else to focus on.

Something about the display on his screen stays him from straying, his attention solely focused on his phone's screen. He watches the features of the man's face; his eyelashes, the curve of his lips, the pretty, blushing skin of his cheeks; it's all captivating.

Jeongguk's not often one for spontaneity, but he soon becomes it's sole ambassador as he scrambles behind the island for his paper and the functioning part of his pencil, returning to his phone and brushing faint lines over the sheet as delicately as he can with his impending fear of the stream coming to an abrupt ending.

Eyes, nose, lips, hair— All soon captured in fine lines. And all the while he's doing so, Jeongguk loses himself to the depths of the man's features, finds himself caught up in the rejoice of his smile and nearly melts at the words he lets slip only seconds later.

"Thank you, Jeonggukie."

Jeongguk likes that nickname— one others have tried to use on him for years much to his own distaste, but something feels different about it when he's soaking in the glory of the man's beautifully misshapen smile.

He's like something out of his dreams.

Something which after dreaming about, Jeongguk would feel so frustrated over, for he would no longer recollect those features that had him awestruck for hours.

For the first time that month, Jeongguk feels at peace alone in his studio apartment, pencil in hand, paper filled with a piece basking in inspiration and care, and eyes flicking up every so often to meet the man that had soon dozed off, only a few hundred people remaining. The count soon decreases to one— only Jeongguk, drawing into the early morning until he's truly satisfied.

It's beautiful, he concludes, a tired smile tugging at his chapped lips when he finally finishes his piece.

His eyes return once more to the sleeping man, head relishing the thought that maybe, just maybe, he has discovered his muse.

⠀
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
heya kiddo's, i hope you all are well. how did
you find this chapter? Did it read well enough
so far?

i'm sure you're probably not happy that i've
started a new book because i'm so inconsis-
tant with updates, but i'm afraid that's just a
thing we're gonna have to deal with :'(

anyway, this is relaxing to write, i hope
you'll enjoy it ♡彡 i love you, stay safe !!