The room smelled of fresh paint, cold coffee, and that woody scent that always clung to Taehyung’s clothes. Rain tapped softly against the studio windows while he sat in front of the canvas, legs apart, slowly spinning a paintbrush between his fingers. The warm light hit his face in a ethereal way—enough to distract you even after hours of being there.

“Stop moving.” His voice was calm.

You barely looked up from the makeshift couch where you had been sitting for nearly forty minutes, trying to maintain the same uncomfortable position while he painted.

“My leg is literally numb.”

Taehyung didn't even respond right away. He just narrowed his eyes at the painting, staring at it as if he were trying to memorize every single detail of you before transferring it to the canvas.

“Still. Just a little longer.”

You tried. You really did. But five minutes later, you shifted slightly to get more comfortable, and you heard him let out a tired sigh.

“You’re impossible.”

“You’ve been staring at me for like an hour straight.”

“That’s the point” his answer came immediately.

You laughed a little at how absurd it all was, but Taehyung didn’t smile this time. He set the brush down carefully on the table and stood up slowly from his chair. The sound of his footsteps against the wooden floor made your breathing become more conscious for no apparent reason—or maybe there was a reason. Because when Taehyung focused on something, he became intense in a way that felt almost dangerous. He stopped right in front of you.

“Tae-”

His hand reached for your face before you could finish the sentence. His fingers slid slowly along your jawline, tilting your head just slightly to where he wanted it. Not rough—not really—but firm. His eyes raked over your face as if he were studying you all over again, searching for the exact expression he wanted to capture.

“There” he murmured, almost to himself. His thumb remained under your chin as he looked at you from far too close.

Taehyung tilted his head slightly, still holding your jaw with an unsettling gentleness, you could feel his eyes scanning your face, just like a few minutes ago. It was as if now that he was close, he could see exactly what he needed from you to capture it in his art, something he had memorized long ago but that always managed to fascinate him.

“I need you exactly like this” he said, his voice low, almost husky.