"At night when the stars light up my room, I sit by myself, Talking to the Moon."
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Lee (Y/N) ─ a college student majoring in the performing arts, more particularly ballet. Reserved, sensitive, and your stereotypical loner, she's not one to talk ─ t...
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"Bitch, I am literally Picasso," Megan grins with a light slouch, hand gripping mindlessly onto her worn paintbrush. The Bob Ross painting tutorial video you guys were following sounds throughout Meg's lively room. She professionally dips her brush into the red solo cup of water at her side, swishing it around, relaxed, before bringing her hand up to the easel. Snickering lightly, she beats the brush back and forth briskly, the water splashing off.
"Uh, no. The more you do that—" you spoke, seated on a petite chair a few inches from her energized form and referencing to her comical actions, "—the more I start to think of you more as Bob Ross."
Meg chuckled heartily, briefly dipping her medium-sized fine-tip brush into a peculiar cerulean colored oil paint before glancing back up to her painting. It sat on the easel with a sort of laziness, mirroring its artist uncannily.
An idea came to mind, and you fought back the urge to laugh, leaning in your seated position as you clone Megan, dipping your paintbrush in water but instead, flicking the water at her with a smirk. She scoffs, and you make a comment stemming from your idea.
"Doesn't Bob Ross only beat the bigger brushes?"
Megan snorted loudly, dropping whatever she was doing to cover her mouth and look to you, noticing your slightly bewildered expression before turning back around to break out into full-blown laughter.
"That...! That sounds so wrong (Y/N), oh my god," she cackles and you grin, turning back to your work.
"Well, he just seems like that typa guy, you know?" you snigger and she laughs even harder, doubling over.
Suddenly, she falls to the ground, causing you to burst out in laughter. Moments like this give you hope, since it probably means you are finally getting comfortable with people other than your parents. Considering they're miles away from you, you'd better get used to it.
The laughter dies down, but you both still wear a natural smile on your faces as you get cozy again, letting out minuscule giggles every now and then just being in one another's presence. Gradually, the chill atmosphere submerges you both again, and you simply ponder as your paintbrush strokes the canvas with ease.
More specifically, Yoongi.
At the moment, he's back at your house, probably watching The Vampire Diaries, which you had recommended to him before you left to hang out with Meg for some time of your Saturday. You remember the conversation you had just moments before you strolled out the door, heart warming at the thought.
"You've never completed a T.V. show before? Really?" you remember saying, chuckling in light disbelief, and Yoongi shrugging stoically.
"Never really had the time. When I come down on Earth, I usually spend my time mingling with anything that has to do with music," he had tilted his head, a little habit of his, "I've watched a few seasons of Friends and other shows, but I've never really bothered, to be honest."
