Just A Few Numbers Away

Chapter 89

A Masterpiece of a Mess

By the time they moved to the upper floor garden set, the toll of the day was showing.

Aen had transitioned into her third look: a gown of soft, dusty lavender tulle. It was her favorite color, a soft cloud of purple that seemed to glow under the studio's golden-hour lamps.

Delicate 3D floral petals in shades of lilac were hand-sewn across the bodice, trailing down the skirt like falling blossoms.

​Despite the beauty of the dress, her hair was being re-pinned for the third time, and her feet were throbbing from the hours spent in heels.

​Yoongi became her silent support system.

He had changed into a cream-colored linen suit-a softer, more relaxed look to match her ethereal vibe.

While the stylists buzzed around her, he didn't just stand back.

He brought her a straw so she could sip water without ruining her lipstick, holding the glass steadily for her.

He stood just off-camera during her solo shots, making those tiny, ridiculous faces-the ones only she could see-just to keep her genuine smile from fading into a "model's mask."

​He sat through the thirty-minute jewelry and hair-accessory change-moving from silver to tiny amethyst hairpins-with a soft, focused gaze.

He didn't check his watch once.

To him, seeing her in her favorite color made the long wait feel like a privilege.
​
​As the "sunset" lamps in the garden set dimmed to a warm, honey-colored glow, the photographer directed them toward a vintage, weathered iron bench tucked under a canopy of preserved lavender wisteria.

​"Sinrang-nim, sit first," the photographer directed.

"Sinbu-nim, lean into him. We want this to look like a secret moment in a palace garden."

​Yoongi sat, draping one arm across the back of the bench.

As Aen settled beside him, her massive lavender skirt spilling over his knees like a purple cloud, he didn't wait for instructions.

He pulled her closer, letting her rest her head on his shoulder.

​When the photographer moved in for a tight, "nose-to-nose" close-up, Yoongi tilted his head, his nose brushing against hers.

He could smell the floral scent of her hair and the faint sweetness of her lip gloss.

In that small, shared space, the rest of the studio disappeared.

For the next shot, Yoongi was told to look at the camera while Aen looked at him, but he couldn't do it.

Every time he tried to find the lens, his eyes drifted back to her.

​"Actually, stay like that," the photographer laughed, clicking away.

"Yoongi-sshi, keep looking at her like she's the only thing in the room. It's perfect."

​During a long lighting adjustment, Yoongi reached beneath the heavy layers of purple tulle and found her hand.

He didn't just hold it; he used his other hand to begin massaging the arch of her foot, hidden entirely by the volume of her skirt.

He knew those heels were killing her, and he used the shadow of the fabric to provide whatever relief he could, his thumb tracing soothing circles over her skin.

​"Is that okay?" he whispered into the crook of her neck, his voice a low rumble.

​"I might actually cry if you stop," Aen admitted, a genuine, tired laugh bubbling out of her.