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

Kết quả (Việt) 1:

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. Ông là một nghệ sĩ với tài năng và vật liệu. Nhưng ngâm mình đã bỏ rơi anh ta. *** Một tuần sau, ông vẫn bị nhốt trong phòng thu của mình. Màn cửa mà rút ra vì vậy, không có ánh sáng từ đèn đường bên ngoài cửa sổ của ông có thể nhận được. Ánh sáng chỉ là từ một ngọn nến đơn ông đã thắp sáng ở giữa phòng trong một ngọn nến trang trí công phu chủ ông đã mua khi ông lần đầu tiên di chuyển ra khỏi nơi cha mẹ anh để kỷ niệm. Ông dõi ngọn lửa flicker và giọt sáp rắn theo cách của họ xuống ngọn nến bên. Ông vẫn không thể rút ra. Ông đã đi qua một sketchbook toàn bộ, cố gắng tìm một cái gì đó, bất cứ điều gì, mình ngâm sẽ trở lại cho. Nhưng đã có không có gì. Nó có thể là một thời gian nửa đêm qua. Ít nhất, ông mặc dù nó đã. Ông đã không kiểm tra thời gian kể từ khi ông cuối ăn một cái gì đó và điều đó đã khá một số thời gian trước đây. Dạ dày của ông growled tại những suy nghĩ của thực phẩm. Lăn lên bên mình và phải đối mặt với đi từ các máy ảnh, ông bỏ qua cảm giác trống rỗng trong dạ dày của mình và cong lên thành một quả bóng. Sau một thời gian (ông đã không khá chắc chắn bao nhiêu dù kể từ thời gian dường như trượt đi từ anh ta trong số tiền unmeasurable), ông ta nghe thấy những âm thanh quen thuộc của các khóa để phòng thu của mình đang được chọn. Sau đó cửa đu mở và khắc nghiệt màu vàng ánh sáng ngập trong từ hội trường để pitch black phòng thu của mình. Không khí trong lành đổ xô vào vừa được khai trương Phòng thổi nến của mình và sự ấm áp có caressed lưng dần dần phai mờ. "Bạn có thực hiện moping chưa?" Một giọng nói hỏi anh ta. 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. Trong khi bạn trai của mình đã dẫn đến xung quanh trong túi một lần nữa, tìm kiếm một cái gì đó, Jungkook nhặt chai, ông đã đặt trên mặt đất và uống. Khi Yoongi cuối cùng đã tìm thấy những gì ông đã tìm kiếm, ông quay trở lại Jungkook nhưng bị tạm dừng khi nhìn thấy anh ta. Ông cười lúc anh ta, hài lòng ông đã nhận được một số hydrat hóa. "Mất thời gian của bạn. Uống nhiều như bạn cần." Yoongi cúi hơn và cho ông một peck trên má. "Tôi có một chai khi bạn đang thực hiện với điều đó." Khi Jungkook đánh bóng hết gatorade, ông panted một chút. Yoongi wra