naked || woosan

10

-ˏˋ i wanted to hear your voice ˊˎ

𓆩♡𓆪

"watch where you're going asshole!"

wooyoung jerked out of the way of the oncoming cyclist, almost dropping the painting he had tucked under his arm.

"sorry!" he called back, but the cyclist had already sped off along the sidewalk.

he readjusted the painting so it was nice and safe and took off back towards the arts quad, ignoring the blisters which were forming where his beat-up converse sneakers rubbed up against the backs of his ankles. wooyoung jogged as fast as his skinny legs would take him. he arrived to the studio just before noon. sweaty, out-of-breath, but just on time.

ignoring the few strange looks his disheveled appearance gathered from his classmates, wooyoung set down the painting over on his easel in the back room, then collapsed down on his stool.

no more exercise – ever.

he had managed to finish his assignment before he left for class. it had just needed a couple of finishing touches – fixing some places where the oil paint had smudged in the wrong direction and adding some final details to complete the portrait. it wasn't hard to remember the details of san's face from memory. in fact, they were so etched in that it would've taken more effort not to remember the clean angle of his jaw or the cat-like quality of his eyes.

it was possibly one of his best paintings yet.

or maybe he was just biased because he had a crush on the painting's subject.

not for long, he reminded himself. i'll get over it soon enough. he doesn't feel the same way. wooyoung was sure that with enough time and distraction, the images of san constantly swirling in his mind would soon fade away.

once the professor came in and began droning on about some complex art techniques, wooyoung zoned out. he was still feeling the effects of his hangover and scolded himself for not taking the time to stop by the coffee shop on his way.

he loved painting – just not always the academic side of it. the rules and strict methods they taught often left him uninspired and he wasn't great at sitting still for hours in class. he spent most of the time doodling in the margins of his notebooks, which probably explained why his grades suffered so greatly.

halfway through his lecture, wooyoung had the strange feeling someone was staring at him.

he glanced slightly to his left to where one of the best students in the class was sitting. the blonde man there was one of the intimidating art students – the ones who wore cool outfits and acted better than everyone else. today, he was wearing a black turtleneck sweater and a beret atop his wavy platinum blonde hair which made him look like a french fashion model.

and he was also staring directly at wooyoung.

oh my god, do i have something on my face. wooyoung jerked his line-of-sight away and ran his hand over the side of his face. nothing. he carefully glanced back to the blonde – who was still staring. it was a horribly uncomfortable amount of eye contact.

he could feel the pair of eyes on him for the rest of the class.

wooyoung had never been happier when the analog clock hung up on the art studio wall struck two. carefully collected his things and shoving his notebook into his canvas backpack, he prepared to get the hell out of there, but a deep voice caught him before he could.

"hey."

wooyoung swirled around. it was the starer.

"it's wooyoung right?"