he's so annoying - suna r.

¡ 📳 !

(Real smut warning guys ‼️)
june
✿————✿

suna ♡'･ᴗ･'♡
do you want smth to eat I'm at mcdonald's

you
yeah can I get like fries and a frappe
I'll pay you back

suna ♡'･ᴗ･'♡
it's on me

you
no it's okay I got you back this time like trust
🤞

suna ♡'･ᴗ･'♡
it's like $5 don't worry 😭

————

"Coming!" You yelled as the doorbell rang, rushing out of your room to open the door.

Suna waved at you from the other side as soon as he saw your face, handing you the warm brown bag and drink. You thanked him and stepped to the side to let him in.

He looked around your apartment like it was some type of foreign land, mindlessly sliding off the backpack he carried that held the materials he brought from home.

"Your place is so much better than mine, why don't we hang out here more?" He wondered aloud. You droppped the McDonald's off in the kitchen.

"I guess we've just never thought about it," you shrugged, excited when you found that he'd gotten you your favorite sauce, which you hadn't even told him.

"You got the clay?" He asked. You nodded. "And the tools?" You nodded again.

"I'm ready this time, seriously. I've improved a lot! Oh, don't mind the boxes by the way, I'm moving out soon."

He nodded and you led him to the living room, where you'd already packed up most of your things so you set up the clay there. It was a little empty without the Aespa albums you usually had sitting on the table in the place of real magazines, but it made you happier to know that they were safely stored away.

Otherwise, who knows? Suna would've probably taken them when your back was turned and added them to his own collection.

You pulled your sketches out from the drawing pad on the coffee table, showing them to the boy. He studied them intently.

"You're great at drawing," he complimented. You smiled, bumping your shoulder against his.

"I know, I'm like a modern day Picasso."

He smiled a little, continuing to look through the ideas you had until he stopped at one that you'd completely forgot about.

"What about this one? It fits the theme pretty well." He suggested, pushing the piece of paper towards you. Your face heated and you tried to hide the drawing under some other stray things you had lying on the table.

"I'm—uh—not so sure about that one. It's kinda bad, I feel like we could do something a bit more special? Maybe something that has more emotional value, I don't know, it's just not very—"

He waved your worries away. "I think it's pretty special. Plus, we can use our hands as reference."

He held out his left hand for you to take hold of, and you were feeling too unconfident to tell him that, well, you had used your hands for reference. His and yours.

Drawing was always the one artsy thing that you could really do, but you hadn't since starting college.

The sketch was just an absent-minded doodle you'd started one sleep-deprived night that turned into an overly detailed drawing of two hands; a larger one that clung loosely to a smaller, more feminine sort of one.