Only On Paper / JJK

Chapter 2

When you open your eyes again, you're in the living room. It's quaint and rustic, but your eyes don't linger on the cracks on the peeling walls or the TV that looks like it should've been thrown away decades ago.

No, you're frantically searching for that naked man, that achingly handsome guy who obviously placed you on the coach after you blacked out.

My drawing is...

You can't even finish the thought. It's too crazy, like you finally lost your last sense of reality. It can't be true, because if it is true, then... then...

Your breathing starts growing heavy and patchy. Now is not the time to be having a panic attack, but here you are. Your eyes are as wide as flying saucers and your lips are parted like the Red Sea as you try to steady your breathing. But you can't focus, your mind is a mess.

"Hey, it's okay." The voice comes from the kitchen. You can hear metal scratch against glass. It was the same sound you had been making as you stirred your coffee before.

You zone out for a second, breath stuck in your throat. Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel it in your fingertips. You know you need to calm down, but that guy is making his way to living room. The floor creaks with every step he takes, and it makes it all that much harder to breath. At any second, your lungs will implode, straining for the air you can't inhale.

The next thing you know, the man, who you notice is still naked, kneels beside you and takes your hand in his. He's warm, as if he is made of the same flesh and bones you are, but you can tell there's something off. His skin... It doesn't feel right. It's papery, just like your sketchpad.

Holy shit... Is he really your drawing?

"I need you to do something for me, okay?" He asks, and he says it so softly you somehow respond with the nod of your head.

"Good, I need you take a breath. Inhale, then exhale. On the count of three. 1...2..."

At three, he mimics what he wants you to do, and you don't know how, but your body listens. It's as if all it needs to work properly is the naked man beside you telling you to do what you're supposed to naturally.

"Do it again." And you do.

You do it a dozen more times until your grip on his loosens, until you realize just how tightly you had been holding onto him.

When you're able to hold your own, you see the indentations your nails have left in his skin, but the guy doesn't complain. He just looks at you in relief and smiles.

Your stomach sinks. Of course, he has to have a beautiful smile and teeth so white it blinds you like the sun high in the sky at noon. Everything about him is perfect. Then again, why wouldn't he be. You did draw him.

It's not until then that you wish you had drawn clothes on him, because he's just there on his knees, his privates only centimeters away from your hand. Your cheeks redden further, and you pull your hand to your chest.

He notices your sudden embarrassment and retracts. "I know how uncomfortable this must be. Me, naked and all, but you don't really have much here that...fits me."

You gulp, looking anywhere but at him. Because fuck, if you looked, you would have no self control. You remain silent, to which he sighs and stands.

"Okay, then. Um, I guess I'll just go back to your bedroom and-"

"No!" You shout, grabbing his wrist to stop him. Did he have no manners? You don't know him. Your drawing or not, he could be some creep or pervert, and despite how handsome he looks, you would not have it.

He stops in his tracks, a curious glint in his eyes. "I'm obviously making you uncomfortable, so I think I should go to a room that you're not in..."

"No," you say more softly, racking your brain for a solution that would solve the most in-your-face problem.

He needed clothes. You obviously were much smaller and lean. Nothing of yours would fit him. Did you know anyone with a bigger build? You could just go to the store but then you would risk him snooping through more of your things while you're gone and there were just some stuff you did not want him to find.

So who nearby could give you clothes and not question you for it? One name suddenly goes through your mind.

Namjoon. Your next door neighbor could surely lend you some clothes for a little bit.

You're quick on your feet and brush past the naked guy to get to your front door.

"W-where are you going?" He calls after you.

"To get you something to cover yourself, doofus," you spew. With that, you slam the door without hearing another word.