ten

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ten

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—YOONGI ADMITTEDLY SPENT MORE TIME LOOKING AT JIMIN THAN HE DOES THE ART. He's always been fond of the gallery and could spend hours taking in the beautiful and breathtaking works of art, but in the company of the young Omega, it was hard for him to look anywhere but at him. Not when he appeared angelic in the soft lighting of the gallery. The open concept roof allowed for the grey, November skies to beam through the glass, illuminating the space in a faint, natural light.

Jimin stood a few feet away from him, looking at a painting he was unfamiliar with. He was dressed in beige and white — his sleeves rolled up to the elbow (Yoongi wondered what it would take to convince Jimin to get a tattoo on his forearm). Every so often, his head would turn, and Yoongi would catch a glimpse of his neck where soft, purples and reds could be faintly seen, hidden under layers of foundation. Yoongi would smirk to himself then, proud that Jimin couldn't quite hide his handy work. Even after almost two weeks, the marks were still prominent.

Let's everyone know he's taken.

Yoongi studied Jimin's face as he stared at the painting. Soft, brown eyes that reminded Yoongi of warm coffee gazed curiously as the harsh reds and deep, black paint brush strokes that hung before him. His lips were parted, as if he had questions, but the right words were stuck in his throat; so he remained silent. Yoongi wished he'd speak — he wanted to know what his thoughts were about the artwork. Yoongi always wanted to stare at him though.

How did we get so lucky? His Alpha wondered. Look at him

I am looking

What an angel; a vision of pure beauty, nothing could ever compare to him. The heavens envy him, the devil kneels at his feet

"Hyung...you're staring,"

Yoongi's eyes flickered, and the same warm eyes that had once been looking at art, now gazed at him with fondness, and shyness. Jimin's cheeks were dusted a light pink, embarrassed that Yoongi had been staring at him so intently. But he could see the admiration in his eyes (besides — Yoongi knows Jimin likes being looked at).

"Am I not allowed to?" he asked, the corner of his mouth turning upwards. Jimin flushed a darker shade of pink.

"Y-You can stare," he stammered.

Yoongi hummed, and brought one hand up. He stroked Jimin's cheek, shivering lightly at the warmth.

"You're so beautiful," Yoongi whispered to him. "God, I'm a lucky lucky man,"

Jimin, outright, turned red.

"Yoongi," he whined, to which he snickered.

"Yes, my love?"

It was so easy to make him flustered

"Nothing," Jimin pouted, playfully. He reached out and laced his fingers with Yoongi and tugged him along. "Come look at this painting,"



Yoongi let Jimin lead him around the art gallery, pointing out his favourites, and stopping to study the ones he was familiar with; all the while admiring the younger. He smiled fondly as Jimin spoke about the pieces, pointing out the certain aspects that he liked or disliked. His voice was gentle and excited, and Yoongi could spend hours listening to him talk. Every so often, Jimin would stop talking, squeeze his hand, and look at him to which Yoongi would squeeze his hand back to let him know that he was paying attention to him, and Jimin would continue talking about the paintings while Yoongi listened on.

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