Third p.o.v

I'm 

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Swirls of bright red and pink collided together as their lips moved effortlessly against each others'.

Explosions of colour sparked the tension they had inside and unbuckled the warmth they hid for each other, lips in need of more. 

Jimin's mind had blanked again, refusing to let the words invade his nerves, but for once,

that was okay. 

Because as Jungkook's hands cupped both of his warm cheeks, lips pressed on each others', holding on to feel every inch of him, Jimin didn't want any words to probe around his mind. He didn't want to describe.

He wanted to feel. 

Jungkook didn't know where he began and where Jimin ended. Their soft lips meshing together created the perfect map of where their hearts wanted them to go. Their kiss turned them into poets and writers and artists and cartographers, mapping the directions their heart wanted to carry them to. 

A tickle struck somewhere in Jimin's brain as they both pulled apart, air being the only exception of their kiss breaking, finally allowing a word to penetrate his thoughts.

Love. 

》

Jungkook and Jimin both sat on the floor, facing the window, watching the wind that carried the few leaves to their graves. 

A caramel machiato in one hand and a french vanilla in the other, they'd spread a blanket over their laps, purposely using only one so they could share the warmth they had saved for each other.

Because for two people in love, even when there were two pillows or two blankets or two cups, you only wanted one. 

The white sunlight lit up the studio, giving shine to the paintings that Jungkook had painted over the years. But he realised that not one interpreted the love he finally had.

Jungkook took careful sips of his coffee, smearing some white cream beside his lips. Jimin grinned and carefully swiped a finger letting it graze there for a bit longer. At least now, there would be no hidden speculations of why they did. 

Jimin looked down at his cup, not having taken a sip at all. Because there was something bitter brewing inside him no cup of sweet could take away. 

Jungkook noticed and asked,

"why aren't you drinking? Is it bad? Should I make you another one?"

Jimin shook his head and looked over at his love, taking in his calm and beautifully concerned features before saying,

"I want you to paint me." 

Jungkook's eyes widened. He thought the day would never come, but to have him say it himself suddenly made him forget how to respond. So he carefully got up, holding on to Jimin's hand and leading him to sit on the chair that stood in front of the wooden easel. He hoped it was comfortable enough for him so he spread the blanket on Jimin's lap before shuffling around to fetch his new paintbrushes and gather his watercolour palette. 

Jimin stared at the painting which hung on the wall across from him. It was a painting which had exquisitely painted both the backs of a man and woman, with a child in the middle, holding on to both their hands. When he saw Jungkook come back with an apron tied around his clothing and a palette in one hand, he felt nervous. 

Nervous that Jungkook would be inspecting each and every feature of his while painting what he saw. He was afraid that Jungkook would see ugliness. 

Because even if all the humans of this world were to dress in capes of ivory silk, the human itself would never appreciate his own cape. 

Jungkook saw the expression change and he set the palette down. 

"Jimin." 

He sat on his own stool and reached across him to place his hand on top of his loves'. 

"You're beautiful just the way you are and I couldn't hope for a better you."

And Jimin immediately thought of the sketches he'd found in that hospital room. Jungkook squeezed his hand with a little more pressure, forcing Jimin to not focus on the past, but the present.

"And I love you for that. You being you."

"I have a request."

"Hm?"

Jimin's eyes travelled down to the cup of coffee which rested untouched from his lips.

"Don't paint me using those watercolours."

Jungkook's heart started to race in fear. Why would Jimin change his mind? Did he do som--

"Paint me using this cup of coffee."

And so Jungkook did. 

He dipped in his paintbrushes, falling in love more and more with the crafted features of the older. He let himself fall deeper and deeper because now there was no fear, for Jimin was here now, catching him. 

His paintbrush moved so effortlessly along the canvas which was one step closer to the coffee scented Jimin. 

Jimin didn't feel ashamed in front Jungkook anymore whilst he was intensely inspecting all of him. He'd given all of him to the one he loved. But still, he wondered what Jungkook's reaction would be when he would soon tell him after. 

The sun started to set and the white sunlight was soon replaced with the purple-red rays which cascaded throughout the studio. 

Jimin searched for that word, he knew there was a word which perfectly described this notation. 

"Amaranthine," Jungkook whispered while giving Jimin a smile. And his brain immediately chewed the word and spread the word to his nerves, serving his body with a sense of familiarity.

Because when your brain delivers the word you wish to use, your heart will take over and fill you with a sense of familiarity, reminding you that nothing is ever lost, just waiting to be found again. 

After perhaps an hour sitting there, Jungkook leaned back and his smile that was never faltering, grew even larger, ushering Jimin to move closer.

The heat which was never lost while Jungkook was staring at him grew even larger and he found himself, once again, thinking that the next thing he was about to do was the right one, yet not quite feeling that it was. 

Jimin stood and picked the painting up, taking in the shades of caramel and mocha and carob and coffee. The colour had trickled away softly at the base of his neck, giving the painting an almost unfinished effect. But he liked it that way because the person you love is never fully complete, you're constantly finding the new sides of them, hoping to discover more each day. 

Jungkook waited, anticipating Jimin's next words. He hoped he liked it.

"It's beautiful," Jimin turned to him and smiled sadly. 

Jungkook blinked a few times, feeling himself dim at Jimin's sad smile. The kind that didn't make the sunlight jealous of its happiness, but the kind that made the rain cry harder at its sadness. 

Jimin felt as if he was handing Jungkook his heart while he passed the painting to Jungkook, meeting his confused and wavering eyes.

"So keep it," Jimin's eyes watered,

and his throat clenched up,

and his fingers curled around,

"and remember me, when I can't remember myself."

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