Finding Bottom

I'm Not Patient

After a short five minutes, I realized that most of the studio was sparse and only filled with equipment Yoongi needed for his art. There were no personal touches, no pictures of friends or family, and certainly no alcohol. There was only one other room, a room I had never been in, where he would go every day, and where I supposed he painted and stored his work. I glanced back at Yoongi, making sure he was still asleep, before opening that door and stepping into his secret world.

I shut the door behind me, immediately shutting myself into darkness. I took a few seconds to breath in the scent. It smelled of Yoongi, a scent that was distinctly him, like paints and mineral spirits, and a fresh spring rain, all mixed together. I finally searched along the wall for a light switch, hoping like hell once I found it that Yoongi wouldn't wake up and see the strip of light under the door, knowing that someone was in here without his permission.

As soon as my eyes adjusted to the brightness, I widened them in wonder. There were so many pieces of work stacked against the walls, I couldn't focus on any one canvas. But I did notice that there was an entire section with canvases that just had one thick, angry smear of a color, and other canvases that were ripped and broken.

My body was drawn to that section of the room. Not that the other completed canvases weren't great, but my heart was drawn to this depressing exhibit. My stomach clenched, knowing the raw emotion he must have experienced as he tortured these canvases. I reached out a shaky hand, feeling the thick, dried paint on the canvas, wishing that I could enter his mind as he smeared this color on. I paused for a moment, asking myself if I really wanted to feel more emotionally attached to Yoongi, but ignored my own question and continued looking.

I was moving the stacked canvases, seeing what else was behind them when my gaze rested on a completed work, hidden behind all of the destroyed canvases. "Holy shit," I whispered out. "That's me."

As I continued to shift the canvases, I dug in my back pocket to grab my phone. I had to text Tae and show him how beautiful Yoongi made me look. Not thinking about the fact that this was a complete invasion of privacy, I snapped a quick picture and sent it to Tae with caption, "now who's the model?" Right after I hit send, the phone slipped out of my hand, making a loud noise as it dropped to the floor, echoing around the room with little to dampen the sound. I panicked, attempting to shove the canvases back where I think they belonged.

I scurried out of the room, shutting off the light as I exited and closed the door, looking in Yoongi's direction, terrified the noise woke him up. Luckily he was still asleep, and looked like he had not moved at all since I last checked on him.

"That was a close call," I reminded myself. As I sat in front of the couch where Yoongi napped, I resolved to stop being so nosy and wait for Yoongi to wake up. Just then my phone alerted me that I had a text.

J: now who's the model?

T: Wow
T: Where'd you get that?
T: Who made that?

J: My client! He painted me!

T: So you modeled for this?

J: No

T: So...? He just showed it to you?
T: OMG! Did you confess?
T: Wait...did he confess?!

J: No No and No
J: I found it

T: Jimin...
T: Found it how?

J: ...

T: JIMIN!
T: Found it how?

J: Well....he was asleep
J: And I just wanted to look around a little
J: But then I stumbled across this