E

The heck is this life?

Gulping now seemed so hard as you pushed down your drool back into your dry throat.

Your grip on the paint brush was tighter than usual.

So much tighter that even before its tip reached the canvas paper it split into two broken pieces.

“Ah!” You sounded softly as the sharp protruding part of the wooden material cut through your skin creating a tint of red on your hand.

“Focus,” your professor said to the class while he walked around the room.

Ha ha ha ha.

How will you be able to focus when it’s your f*cking roommate that’s there?

In front of your class.

Posing proudly.

Without any clothes on????????

You close your eyes shut and inhaled deeply.

I can do this.

You looked straight at him, pushing any crazy thoughts behind your head and only focusing on the mission that you must accomplish today.

You started your canvas.

It wasn’t as hard as you thought it would be.

Since you’ve been painting human faces whenever you have some free time, fascinated by the unique turns, and curves of the human attribute,- you didn’t had a hard time to draw in his features.

It was as if your hand had its own life.

Moving smoothly along the white paper, strokes after strokes.

He was something.

As you looked at him closely, taking every detail of his physique and transferring it on the piece of paper in front of you.

You realized.

He was beautiful.

An art itself.

A living masterpiece.

Every curve of his body.

Every detail of his face.

Everything about him seemed so strangely perfect in a good and magical way.

It took awhile but soon you’ve been able to finish the main draft of your drawing.

All you needed to do was to add the delicate details.

Suddenly the sound of the bell rang which signals the end of the classes and your professor told you to finish the painting by the end of next week.

You hadn’t realized that you’ve been on the same position for hours, you were engulfed and so involved with what you were doing that you didn’t noticed the time.

“He’s so hot,” you heard the other girls in your class started to whisper.

Tsk.

Of course.

Here they go again.

Soon they would approach him and ask him for his number by calling him oppa.

Sure enough, when you looked at Jungkook who was thankfully wrapped with the robe again, a girl approached him.

“Jungkook oppa right? Can I have your number, I might need to redo my canvas,” the girl asked sexily.

You scoffed to yourself feeling your blood boiling inside you.

How could these girls just threw themselves to guys with handsome faces and smoking hot bodies?

You totally understand that he’s good looking and all but-

At least have some dignity.

And their clothes.

You looked down on your clothing which was composed of a black sweatpants and a black tee shirt.

How could they even walk around wearing those short skirts and tank tops that conveniently showed a part of their lacy bras?

Might as well wear a bikini.

You started stuffing all your materials inside your bag, totally out of focus with your surroundings.

You just wanted to get out of there and have some peace of mind without the wailing of these horny peasants who were obviously starving for some bratwurst.

“No,” the familiar voice ringed on your ears.

You turned your head and saw Jungkook turning the girl down.

At least he’s not taking advantage.

“-because my girlfriend might get mad,” he added.

Ooh. Of course he has a-

“Y/N,” he called out to you as he walked fast towards your direction a wide smiled plastered on his face.

Your eyes widen and you felt like a frozen statue.

Why the f*ck is he talking to me now?

“You cut yourself earlier?” He asked when he was finally in front of you.

You could just see a peek of his well toned chest and abs from the slight opening of his robe.

Who turned off the air conditioning?

You could feel your clothes burning from the laser eyes of the girls around you and Jungkook being this close didn’t help at all.

“Huh? I-uh-, s-sht-f-. Mhh?”

Yes, very coherent Y/N.

He chuckled as he reached for your right hand examining it.

“What-.”

You hadn’t even finished your sentence when he brought your hand onto his mouth. He looked at you deep in the eyes while he sucked on the cut by the junction between your thumb and index fingers.

And you swore you saw him smirk while doing so.