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Yoongi hadn’t meant to pick up a new hobby, but since he’s not teaching summer classes for the first time in years, his summer is free. When relaying this news to his parents, his mother had nearly driven to Seoul to kidnap him to come back home for some of his time off. He doesn’t mind being back in Daegu, he truly enjoys the rest and relaxation, but Yoongi is a workaholic. He doesn’t like doing nothing. Ever helpful, his mother had introduced him to the escape of painting, and Yoongi takes to it immediately. 


Usually he’s up to his scalp in thoughts of his students, or syllabuses, but now for the first time in forever, Yoongi has days to do absolutely nothing. To worry about nothing. Of course, his next year’s classes occupy his thoughts, but when he puts that brush onto the canvas, his mind goes perfectly blank. All he can see is his finished goal. He sees stokes of blues and grays, whites, and reds, purples. He sees the way certain mediums blend together, the way he breathes life onto what was once a white canvas. He truly enjoys the escapism painting offers. Over time, months and months, Yoongi is proud to say he’s gotten quite good at his hobby. He is grateful for that one summer of freedom to really delve into this new passion he’s discovered. 


It’s in early April next spring, Yoongi finds himself in his new apartment, in a room solely for his studio where he can work on his class related things, his music, and his paintings. It’s set up nicely, with a big view to the outside life of Seoul, glittering lights of buildings and cars down below making their way through traffic on this friday night. He puts on his comfiest clothes, turns the radio on, and paints until his fingers cramp. 


“What do you think, Holly?” He asks, looking at his baby, maybe a little too slurred with the amount of wine he’d consumed. His poodle lies on the loveseat a few feet away, giving a slow blink and stretch before he turns over and falls back asleep. Yoongi coos at his cuteness before turning back and examining the image before him. He’s strayed from abstract and pushed himself to learn and paint more figure studies. He spends a lot of time pouring into YouTube tutorials and books borrowed from the University. He’s gotten good, Yoongi thinks proudly, staring at his piece. 


Of course, he still goes wild with color, but it’s there on the canvas, the shape of a body folded over, hands outstretched, but in an array of pinks and soft yellows. The song he’s humming to comes to a soft close before a honey smooth, low and mesmerizing voice wraps itself around Yoongi like a warm embrace. He’s a bit drunk, and a bit in love with the DJ of TETE FM. He glances to his radio and sits on his stool, mixing more colors together sluggishly with a dopey grin on his face. “What do you think, Tete?” he slurs cutely. 


Beautiful,” the voice says back, making heat zip up through Yoongi’s body. He sighs dreamily, before putting his palette down and chugging the last few sips straight from the wine bottle beside him. Tete continues, “ What a beautiful voice, don’t you think? That was Joy Crookes’ Don’t Let Me Down. ” the voice continues, lulling Yoongi into a relaxed state. He’s found himself absolutely enamoured with the mysterious DJ since finding the station by pure luck. Being a Professor in Music History, with different classes on Baroque Music Analysis and Music Authenticity and Performance, Yoongi has a vast appreciation for music of all kind, and TETE FM 6.13 plays so many different genres and artists, he finds himself adapting to the mood each song creates in his art space. 


He sighs again and closes his eyes when Tete sings softly into the mic, “Don’t let me down....don’t let me down…” followed by a shy chuckle, as if the man is carried away with the music. It’s endearing. Yoongi is smitten with a man he doesn’t even know. Probably straight though. But that voice, Yoongi wants to write music for it, wants to paint the colors it invokes. “Ah, sorry.” another chuckle. “It’s too early in my shift for me to be singing like this, right?”


“No.” Yoongi shakes his head.


“What next, what next...hmm...ah! Maybe some Frank Sinatra. What do you think?” 


Yoongi grunts. He’s about to pass out at this point, but he doesn’t want Tete to stop talking. The gods are on his side as the DJ hums a bit of Come Fly With Me, until his voice picks up and it’s smooth and steady, and he launches into a small tale about how he sang this particular song at his friend’s wedding. Yoongi falls asleep promptly after that.  




“Are you sure this is okay?” Yoongi asks, thanking his friend when handed a water bottle as he begins to set up his easel. Jungkook is one of his dearest friends and he’d offered the older a chance to sit in one of his classes and paint. 


“We’re bringing in a model, hyung. It’ll be good practice. My students are very kind, trust me, no one is going to judge your art style!” 

Yoongi nods to that.


“You’re all set, hyung!” Jungkook smiled brightly before tidying up the room as students filtered in one by one. Yoongi had chosen to sit closest to Jungkook’s desk, meaning he had a pretty good spot for his view on the model whenever they arrived. 


Jungkook chatted with him briefly before he walked around to greet his students, and that’s when he walks in. The most gorgeous man Yoongi has ever seen. He thinks maybe he’s having a gay crisis, because he’s seen attractive men before, but he’s never had such a bodily reaction to their mere existence. This man, however, Yoongi feels himself blush for no damn reason, and he curses internally, lowering his gaze to fiddle with his pallet before peaking up again at the stranger. Bad idea. 


Yoongi just about chokes on his spit when the man stands only a few feet from him, gaze focused on Jungkook as the younger talks about poses, and begins to undress. Fuck. Oh, fuck. 


Looking around the room, everyone is composed and professional, but Yoongi nearly squawks when the man meets his gaze, and immediately snaps his eyes back to his blank canvas. He feels like his face is on fire and his hand is shaking when he goes to grab a pencil. He slumps further in his seat and tries to make himself as small as possible, grateful that none of the students here are any of his own. That would be mortifying. He hears Jungkook ramble on about time and poses and yada yada, but Yoongi is still having a mini gay meltdown. 


He looks up again, just over his canvas and feels his eyes widen when they’re immediately met with...well…


The model is...facing him. Big.


Looking at him. Cool. Great. 


“Hello, everyone.” His voice.


Oh. Fuck..


Yoongi knows that voice.


“My name is Kim Taehyung. Thank you for allowing me to model for you all today.” he bows only slightly in his nude state and smiles widely. “Please make me pretty.” That earns a series of amused laughter and chuckles from the students and Yoongi is still frozen in his seat. That is Tete. He’s sure of it. Also—make him pretty? There is no way, Yoongi thinks, any part of this man could ever be ugly. Every part of him is pretty. His curled hair, his brows, his soft eyes, shit even his teeth are pretty. And well....His...He’s pretty everywhere. Yoongi deeply regrets this. 


He looks up and spends the next hour doing a very, very detailed drawing of Taehyung’s eyes. Taehyung smiled at him a total of four times, and Yoongi is sure he suffered some way in his health because of it. By the end of the class, Yoongi has a very detailed drawing of...Taehyung’s face and collarbones. He didn’t even touch his paints. Shit. 


Jungkook had raised several eyebrows in his direction when doing his sweeps of the room during class, and it wasn’t until he picked up on the elder’s blush and dark glare that he began to send teasing smirks and knowing winks. Oh, he’s going to kill Jeon Jungkook.


Later, Yoongi exhales in relief when Taehyung begins to redress and he starts to pack up his materials, pouting at the wasted paints he didn’t use. He freezes however, when a voice directly beside him speaks almost too friendly. 


“Wow. My eyes look so pretty here. You’re really talented.”


Yoongi looks up and watches as Taehyung leans a bit closer to the canvas, looking genuinely impressed. The older suppresses a shiver, feeling oddly like he’s the one bare now. He frets about the details of his drawing and scratches his ear. “I...Sorry, yeah. I’m still learning um, body. I mean, figures? Poses.” Fuck. 


Taehyung looks over at him and—wait. he checking him out? Yoongi stiffens in his seat, swallowing the nervous knot in his throat. Okay. Okay, wait. Taehyung’s lips curve in a smirk and his brow lifts but they’re smoothed out into a friendly gaze so quickly Yoongi fears he imagined it. 


“You’re cute.” 


He is definitely checking him out. Not straight. No. Definitely not. Right?


“Lunch?” Yoongi says with wide eyes before composing himself. He is a twenty-seven year old man for fuckssake! He has never, never been so flustered and tongue tied around someone attractive before. He is calm and collected, dammit! Maybe it’s the other factors though. Maybe it’s the way he’s been crushing on Tete's voice for a year, or maybe it’s because he’s embarrassed because he drunkenly talks to Taehyung’s radio personality every Friday night, or maybe it’s the way he just stared at the man’s flaccid dick for two hours that is making him act like some tongue tied teenager. Yoongi clears his throat and slowly stands, gathering his canvas and art bag. “Would…like to get some lunch together? You could give me tips. About...figure studies?” his question is just sad, Yoongi realizes, and wow, this is why he never dates. Dating is overrated. 

Taehyung crosses his arms and honest to god giggles.


Scratch that. Dating is great. Yoongi is in love. 


”What makes you think I’m an artist? I could just be a model.” 


“Kook said an old student was modeling today.” 


“Oh you’re friends with Kookie?” 


“Just colleagues.” Yoongi says, seeing the eavesdropping younger flip him off from his desk. 


Taehyung glances at the younger before he tilts his head, sizing Yoongi up again with a bit more interest. “You’re a professor?” 


“Yes.” Yoongi nods, wiping his sweaty palms discreetly against his jeans. 


“That’s hot.” He replies with hooded eyes and a low voice, making the older’s heart skip and his dick twitch. “I graduated last year, but I definitely would have liked you for a Professor.” he says suggestively, cutting the airflow from Yoongi’s lungs. “I’ll go to lunch with you, but with one condition.” Taehyung steps closer and takes the canvas from Yoongi’s hands. A perfect gentleman. Thoughtful. Wow. 


“Uh,” Yoongi thinks he really is in love. 


“What’s your name?” Taehyung smiles at his intelligent reply, a bit more shyly, like he’s not used to being so forward, and god it does things to Yoongi’s heart. He remembers his parent’s story about how they fell in love at first sight and he always thought it was such bullshit, but Yoongi is eating his words right now, he thinks. Because holy shit, he is positively smitten, and there’s a whole colony of butterflies going crazy in his tummy right now. 


“Yoongi.” He answers, rubbing his neck nervously. “Min Yoongi.” 


“Pretty name for a pretty man.” Taehyung grins, biting his lip, eyes twinkling. 


Jungkook snorts from his desk and as the two leave, Yoongi sends one more glare to the younger, choosing to ignore the saucy wink he receives in return. Jungkook’s voice carries as the door closes behind them. “Taehyung is back next week, hyung! Maybe you can get around to finishing the rest of his body then!” 


Yeah, Yoongi is going to kill him.