𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐯𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬 || JJK x READER

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚎

Jungkook's pov
From my position I could get a good look at that girl and what she was painting.
Her shoulders hunched as if she had closed in on herself and was trying to hide, from the world and especially from me.

I hated that she was so afraid of everything, that she was so pure.
In my hands she was a delicate flower and I a man trampling nature, breaking every flower in my path.

Y/n was like the prey falling into the wolf's trap.
The little girl wandering around the amusement park out of curiosity, losing her parents.
She was a canvas still blank, longing to be painted; a body and soul suffering but still not corrupted by the world.

Here I was watching her sweep miserably across the canvas in colours at odds with her being, thinking how her soul could heal, which way was best.

On one side, Y/n, the girl with a heart as shattered as the objects she had smashed the day before, needed as much love as the whole universe could contain.

On the other side was the girl of a few moments ago, so tense, so vulnerable in my arms.
She might have been pure, but I was sure she knew what a man's gaze meant, what it meant when two skins brushed against each other.

Perhaps I had gone a little too far while trying to teach her to observe herself, to understand that art is simply within her.
Perhaps she was right in saying that I should not touch her.

The fact is that I am not used to having people around me, to having to interact with them. I don't know how to talk, what is right to say and what is not; when and if it is right to touch someone.

And it's been so long since I let a girl get close... not that I could consider Y/n the woman I could fall madly in love with.

In my eyes she was just a little girl, small, helpless and... pure.
She had nothing to do with me and, above all, she hated me.

I watched her as she tried to explain to me what she was seeing in her imagination and from her breaths, from her rehearsed voice, I could tell that I might have a power over her, of I don't know what entity.

Moral? Physical? Sexual?

She gave me the impression that she hadn't told me everything that was on her mind, and the thought pressed deep into my bones.

Y/n probably has more inside her than she shows and I was intrigued as the reason why fate brought us together.
She is the complete opposite of what I represent.

She is quitness, order.
Calmness and rationality.

I am darkness, chaos.
Destruction and terror.

Yet our moods matched. Our fears, since we met, had aligned to create a masterpiece worthy of admiration.

As much as she hated my art, she was part of it. It was just bullshit that my art didn't convey anything to her. If it really did, she wouldn't have had to cry in front of one of my paintings.

The truth is that she hated my art because first of all she hated parts of herself that bind her to my paintings.
And it is fascinating that all she has to do to discover herself is to immerse herself in the fears they cause her.

I want this for her.
She will suffer but she will rise again with her head held high, perhaps with a few more scars.

So, what if fate brought us together for this reason?

Even if I only create destruction, what if it could save her, not before destroying her even more?

I focused my attention back on Y/n's painting rather than on my own thoughts and realised I had probably spent a very long time thinking and brooding.