UGH! / SOPE & VMIN.

ELEVEN, MILKY TEA.

MILKY TEA.

     JIMIN IS RUDELY awoken by the sound of car horns and shouting outside his apartment, a warm body next to him under the covers, all caramel skin and deep black hair styled into a mullet, and an arm around jimin's waist. he's naked under the covers, they both are; racking his mind for a name isn't that hard, because kim taehyung's possibly the most beautiful person he's ever seen.

the warm bodied boy turns over, hair in his eyes and lips puffy from kissing jimin ferociously the night before, and jimin can glimpse the skimpy skirt he'd been wearing, now discarded across the room. all the artistic inspiration jimin's been semi-lacking in the last week floods back into his body all at once, something akin to a cocaine rush coursing through his crimson veins as he jumps out of bed like he actually has somewhere to be, his notebook and pencil easily found even amongst all the rubble and debris of his life that litter his small apartment.

taehyung turns over, still enjoying a bit more than forty winks underneath jimin's soft sheets, hair splayed out onto his beautiful features, lips parted in breath. jimin quickly places the sketchbook down, a drawing idea blooming as he runs to the kitchen and puts the kettle onto the gas for tea, still stark bollock naked. he grabs his dressing gown ( most expensive thing he owns, £15 and warm as anything ), throws it haphazardly over his body, and rushes back to his bedroom, pulling a chair near the bed, hoping taehyung won't wake even with the sounds of a crooning diva emanating from jimin's record player, 'cause he needs music to accompany his art.

taehyung's body comes to life on jimin's sketchbook page, three different sketches becoming real before his hazel eyes: one of taehyung's hands gripping the bedsheets last night as jimin's body danced with his, the sounds that he was making coming back to the artist's mind and making him smirk; the second is taehyung's collarbones and neck leading up to his chin, marked up with jimin's lipmarks and lovebites, bruises on his beautiful caramel skin, and jimin remembers his whimpers, remembers how he pressed his fingernails into taehyung's thighs as he bit his neck and collarbones and painted him pretty; the third sketch is him now, laying on his side with a hand holding the sheet up to his face, eyes shut and hair prettily messed up, and jimin wants to kiss him.

the kettle boils in the kitchen, and jimin leaves to go make tea, hoping that taehyung likes his tea strong and sugary because he isn't about to wake him. hair mussed and an unlit cigarette between his lips as he returns to the bedroom with two cups of tea, nearly blanching when he sees that taehyung's awoken in the five minutes he left, and that he's holding jimin's sketchbook between his delicate, slim fingers, gently ghosting the page with his fingertips.

"hey," jimin says softly, closing the door behind him with his foot. taehyung goes deer in the headlights, all big big eyes, mouth in an o, and jimin chuckles, sitting back in the chair he'd dragged over. "no need to look shaken, love. have some tea."

taehyung takes it hesitantly, and jimin can't help but think that the boy seems like this is unusual, this amicable, caring moment after sex; it's fairly foreign to jimin, too, he'll admit, he doesn't make tea for just about anyone. but today, there's some sort of fire ignited in his chest, and he feels warm and happy and caring... so, he made tea.

"y-your drawings— they're gorgeous," taehyung's personality now is such a stark contrast to the flirty, confident mini-skirt wearing boy jimin had bought home last night; you could almost believe they're different people. maybe jimin slept with his identical twin? ( don't laugh, it's happened before ).

"oh, uh, thank you," jimin can't help but smile, picking the sketchbook back up. "yeah, i hope you don't mind — i like to draw beautiful people. and you're pretty."