There’s something magical, Jungkook

There’s something magical, Jungkook thinks, in drawing.

Take a bit of colored pigment and drag it across a piece of paper in the just the right way an you’ve got a flower so perfect you might want to smell it. Take some graphite and scribble until the lines of a dancer emerges, practically dancing across the page. Layer chalk on top of chalk in a thousand different colors and you have a window into an ocean a million miles away.

It was beautiful, enchanting, and so enticing that Jungkook had never looked at anything else after he first picked up a crayon and scrawled messy lines with his clumsy toddler hands.

Now, 18 years later, he’s in art school.

He can draw almost anything in the world if we wanted to. He could draw a royal peacock, with it’s rich blues and greens forming feathers so real you could almost feel them. Or a woman so beautiful you fell in love with her. Or prison so dark and small you felt trapped.

But only as long as his muse would allow him.

And today was not one of those days.

Alone in his studio, Jungkook threw his pencils across the room. They hit the wall and fell to the ground with shattered lead hidden inside the barrel. Scattered around him were dozens upon dozens of wadded up paper torn from his sketchbook. The terrible drawings on them were hidden by how crumpled they were.

Jungkook couldn’t draw.

The lines in his doing hold no life to them and the colors were there but they weren’t bright enough. The idea was in place but the passion was gone like a fire blown out in a stormy wind.

He was an artist with talent and materials.

But his muse had abandoned him.

***

A week later, he was still locked in his studio. The curtains where drawn so no light from the streets lamps outside his window could get in. The only light was from a single candle he had lit in the middle of the room in an ornate candle holder he had bought when he first moved out of his parents’ place to celebrate. He watched the flame flicker and drops of wax snake their way down the candle’s side.

He still couldn’t draw. He had gone through an entire sketchbook, trying to find something, anything, that his muse would came back for. But there was nothing.

It was probably some time past midnight.

At least, he though it was.

He hadn’t checked the time since he last ate something and that had been quite some time ago. His stomach growled at the thought of food. Rolling onto his side and facing away from the camera, he ignored the empty feeling in his stomach and curled up into a ball.

After a while (he wasn’t quite sure how much though since time seemed to slip away from him in unmeasurable amounts), he heard the familiar sound of the lock to his studio being picked. Then the door swung open and harsh yellow light flooded in from the hall to his pitch black studio. The fresh air that rushed into the newly opened room blew out his candle and the warmth that had caressed his back slowly faded away.

“Are you done moping yet?” A voice asked him.

It was Jungkook’s boyfriend, Yoongi. He was a music major and understood how things where when he got in a creative stump. But he also prided himself on taking care of his younger boyfriend and would snap him out of it when he thought Jungkook was being too melodramatic.

Jungkook ignored him and stared dully at the bland white wall of his studio.

“Come on, get up.” Yoongi thumped his way into the room, closing the door out into the hallway as he turned the lights on. “You need to do something other than lay there. You’re going to have weeds growing on you soon.”

Yoongi set down grocery by Jungkook head. Then he grabbed his arm and yanked Jungkook into a sitting position. He grumbled and tried to slump back down to the ground but Yoongi had other ideas. He sat down on the ground next to him and Jungkook ended up leaning up against him and resting his chin on Yoongi’s shoulder.

After wordlessly rustling around in the grocery bag for a while, Yoongi pulled out a gatorade and uncapped it.

“You’re probably dehydrated as . You never take care of yourself when you get like this.” Yoongi pressed the bottle to Jungkook’s lips and tipped it back, forcing him to take big gulps of the liquid so it didn’t spill. When Yoongi pulled it away with a satisfied nod, Jungkook his lips. He hadn’t noticed it, but his mouth and throat had grown so dry. Yoongi had forced him to drink half of the bottle but he was still parched.

While his boyfriend resulted around in the bag again, looking for something, Jungkook picked up the bottle he had placed on the ground and drank. When Yoongi finally found what he was looking for, he turned back to Jungkook but paused when he saw him. He smiled at him, satisfied he was getting some hydration.

“Take your time. Drink as much as you need.” Yoongi leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek. “I have another bottle when you’re done with that.”

When Jungkook polished off the gatorade, he panted slightly. Yoongi wra