Still with you

Chapter two

What does it take to be beautiful? What does it mean? Is beauty defined by society's expectations or is it sincere and subjective, varying from person to person? Is beauty outward or inward? Is it a mix of both? Of none? Is there an end goal with beauty or is it a never-ending journey full of twists and turns, ups and downs?

When I look at you, I see beauty. That is something I will never be ashamed to admit. That you are simply and wholly beautiful. Every day you are beautiful, every second of every minute of every hour you are stunning, you are enchanting. And I know that these innocent and sickly sweet thoughts are bound to be my downfall. That when you are so willing to give your all to someone you will have nothing left for yourself.

When you leave I will be empty. Even if it's not your intention to do so, you will walk away with everything I've ever been able to call mine. You will leave me a shell of the person I used to be. I will never see beauty again. You will strip me of my ability to do so.

So please, stay by my side.

❈❈❈

Jungkook sits at his desk with an untouched glass of water by his side. His parched throat had not cured itself - in fact, Jungkook's pretty sure it's only gotten dryer - its just that the need to drink had suddenly been replaced by the much more compelling, much more overwhelming desire to create. It's been so long since Jungkook's felt this way, so long since his fingers itch to wrap around a pencil, so long since the blank pages of his sketchbook seem alluring and welcoming instead of something to avoid at all costs. It's been so long since he's felt the addicting adrenaline rush that is inspiration. He feels unstoppable, he can't stop. He can't lose this fleeting feeling that's been hiding for what seems like forever. So, dry throat begone, Jungkook needs to sketch.

There are so many words that are used in day-to-day language. Some have complex and interesting etymology whilst others seem to appear out of thin air, not a single clue suggesting where they might've come from. Yet none of them even come close to describing the full beauty of the man Jungkook was only able to catch a glimpse of. Alluring, mesmerising, stunning, gorgeous, breathtaking, angelic, simply unreal. Deep dark eyes that peek through fluffy brown hair with soft, pert lips and an elegantly sloped nose, there is simply nothing out there that can singlehandedly encapsulate the perfection of this man. Jungkook was, again, only able to catch a glistening glance so the details are fuzzy in his mind, frustratingly so.

Each sketch differs from each other but they all have one annoying thing in common; none of them really look like him. The blue pencil that is specifically and exclusively used for sketching has slowly but surely been whittled down into a small, short, unhelpful stump of wood and coloured led. So Jungkook struggles even holding it properly, never mind actually creating something good with it. Frustration fizzles and bubbles inside of him, it snaps and has his eyebrows twitching downwards and also has him abruptly standing from his chair and marching down the (very short) hallway to burst through a white-painted door.

"Jesus!" Jimin yelps in surprise, flinching from where he sits, leaning against the headboard of his bed. "Thanks for knocking." The blonde says sarcastically. Jungkook promptly ignores him.

"What was the name of your friend?"

"What...?"

"The guy that was just here? What's his name?"

"Who, Taehyung?"

"Is that his name?"

"Um, yeah, why?"

Jungkook takes a deep breath. He knows that telling Jimin will get him what he wants, however, he also knows that it will most definitely earn him a one-way ticket to mockery-town. He internally wonders if finding, meeting, and convincing Taehyung to sit for a painting is worth the insufferable shit Jimin will inevitably give him for his newfound infatuation. But then he imagines a failing grade slapped onto an empty canvas and his mind is made.