knees, please!

Seungmin's ears still echo with the squeaks of sneakers and the rhythmic thuds of the ball hitting the polished floor as he heads towards the locker room, wiping the sweat from his forehead. His muscles hum with a satisfying ache, a reminder of the intense workout just completed. The anticipation of a cold shower, washing away the stickiness from his body, is the only silver lining in the upcoming monotony of the day. Then it's back to the dorm, hunching over his desk like a question mark, uncovering new errors in the manual that shouldn't have any errors. All in all, an hour and a half of volleyball is the highlight of today's standard university routine. A towel lazily draped over his shoulder swings with each step Seungmin takes towards the gym's exit. Everything is as it should be, as it always is on Thursdays, except for the rare occasions when he's nursing a sore throat or dealing with an emergency like an unprepared test. Everything is normal until a figure appears in front of him, blocking his path and causing him to stop abruptly. The guy in front of Seungmin is a stranger, yet his facial features seem vaguely familiar, especially his slightly swollen lips and hesitant smile, revealing a row of uneven teeth. Blondish hair catches the sunlight streaming through the large windows, emitting waves with a wavelength of about five hundred and eighty nanometers... Heck, don’t forget to send those silly phase-antiphase problems to the teacher. Seungmin feels the stranger's eyes scanning his face, studying him intently, while his mouth remains slightly agape until a deep breath of courage fills his lungs. "Hey," the guy begins, and to Seungmin's surprise, his voice remains steady. Seungmin wonders if it should be trembling like a leaf in the wind, or if he's simply imagining the uncertainty in the stranger's demeanor. "I know this might sound weird, but... I think you have really nice knees. Can I sketch them?" Seungmin blinks slowly, but the image before him refuses to fade. Not a hallucination. It seems. Did he hear that right? He lowers his gaze to his knees, slightly covered by his shorts from this angle. Just ordinary knees – perhaps a bit reddened and scratched from today's unsuccessful dive during the volleyball practice. He looks back up at the stranger, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks. "What?" Seungmin manages to say, sounding much more puzzled than when he was asked about asymptotes and mean terms in a variation series, and he could only blink in response. Now he can't even blink, continuing to stare stubbornly and silently. "Your knees are beautiful, I'm telling you," the guy repeats and bites his lip as if debating whether to continue this awkward conversation. "I'd love to make a couple of sketches if you'd let me." The stranger quickly thrusts a small piece of paper into Seungmin's hands, drawing his attention to it. Neat numbers are written on the torn snow-white scrap, and slightly below them are letters forming the simple and concise "Jungsu." "My phone number," Jungsu explains as if Seungmin might decipher the message differently. "Please, think about it and text me." Before Seungmin can contemplate, evaluate the offer, and say something in response, Jungsu turns around and hurries away, practically fleeing. Maybe he's rushing to a class that's about to start, or maybe he's burning with shame after twice calling someone else's knees beautiful. Seungmin can't help but smile, completely bewildered by this strange encounter. He looks back at the makeshift business card and can't figure out what to do with it. He considers just tossing it away and forgetting about it forever – who knows how many people have lost their marbles in this godforsaken institution called university. Seungmin might as well go crazy, especially if next semester's schedule remains as crappy as this one. Before he can make a decision, Gunil approaches him from behind, apparently having finished his duties of cleaning the gym while Seungmin was dealing with some weird kid. Gunil wraps an arm around his shoulders, and Seungmin feels like he's about to explode. "Some guy just told me I have nice knees and he wants to draw them," he blurts out before Gunil can ask what's wrong with his face, or crack a joke that boys are finally paying attention to poor Minnie. Seungmin is one hundred percent sure Gunil caught at least a glimpse of the scene. "What the heck? Is he sick? A fetishist? What if he starts stalking me? Gunil-hyung, help, I'm scared!" The words tumble off his tongue, forming a snowball of panic. What started as a silly joke suddenly becomes too real, and Seungmin starts to believe in the worst-case scenarios his brain can conjure up. "Hey, chill out, man," Gunil says calmly, giving him a slight pat on the shoulder and finally leading him towards the unfortunate door he was supposed to leave through ten minutes ago. "Fetishist? Do you even know many people with a knee fetish? Now if he said something about your feet..." "Oh my God!" Seungmin exclaims, clapping his hands to his cheeks and hiding his face behind them. "Who in their right mind just goes up to a stranger and says they have nice knees? Knees! Knees are probably the ugliest part of the human body. Jeez! And what if it was a hint for me to get on these nice knees in front of him?" "But you'd like it, wouldn't you?" Gunil teases and his laughter echoes down the hallway. "Oh, shut up!" Seungmin pouts, giving him a playful slap on the back of the head and pushing him into the locker room. "I'll give in once, I'll give him a blowjob, and then what? He'll decide my knees are his property and chop them off?" "Wow, someone's been watching too much true crime," comes from inside the cramped room, followed by ringing laughter. "You're talking about Jungsu-hyung, huh? He won't harm a fly. Worst he'll do is pour cement over you, turn you into a statue, and keep you in his room." Jiseok bursts into laughter again – so uncontrollable that he has to shut his mouth with his fist and puff out his cheeks. The likelihood that he's just joking in the dumbest way possible approaches one, but Seungmin still imagines, just in case, what could come of this spontaneous date. His limbs go numb and he can't move, can't resist, his breath catching in his throat from the viscous substance flowing down, his vision blurring... "You should see your face right now," Jiseok manages to squeeze out, trying to catch his breath and not choke on a new bout of laughter. "Yours is not any better," Seungmin retorts, rolling his eyes. "So, you know this guy?" "Yeah, he's in my English class," Jiseok nods slightly. "Actually a decent guy, although a bit full of himself sometimes. Second-year design major. Argued with the teacher last class about whether Van Gogh studied in a special school. Gave up because he didn't know how to say 'artisan' in English." "Very crucial information, thanks," Seungmin scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. "I think it was just his way of hitting on you," Jiseok shrugs. "And because of you guys, I'm already late!"

***

The paper crumples and rustles under the pads of Seungmin's fingers. He strokes the numbers written on it and looks at them with disdain. They stare back, almost mocking him – especially the number eight with its unblinking gaze and wide-open eyes. Under such pressure, Seungmin has to give in. Seungmin no longer believes he'll actually be killed and dismembered, repeating Jiseok's words like a mantra in his head: Jungsu's just hitting on me. It's a strange, albeit somewhat poetic, approach. Maybe Jungsu thought Seungmin had heard enough compliments about his face and arms, so he decided to make a grand entrance and dazzle him with his unpredictability. Seungmin, however, hasn't heard enough of such niceties before, so he thinks that if the guy with the notebook in hand had offered to draw his portrait, it would've been cute. Adorable. But the guy (without a notebook, actually, but it was probably in his backpack) offered to draw his knees, and Seungmin has no idea how to take that. Perhaps Jungsu blurted it out due to nervousness or embarrassment, and he meant to say something completely different? Seungmin sighs, shakes his head, quickly adds the number to his contacts, and starts typing a message.

You, 4:42 PM Hi, I'm Beautiful Knees.

Jungsu, 4:45 PM Oh my god. Hi, Beautiful Knees. I'm the Weird Guy Who Draws Knees. Um, by the way... What's your name?

You, 4:47 PM Seungmin.

Jungsu, 4:47 PM Nice to meet you!! Sorry for such a spontaneous and quick... Well, whatever it was at the gym. Your game was so intense, it was scary to interrupt. Almost late for class because of it, haha.

You, 4:50 PM It's okay. Just unexpected. But... thanks, I guess?

Jungsu, 4:51 PM So, what about my offer? Seungmin hesitates, tapping his finger on the edge of the silicone phone case. What about the offer? Jungsu keeps pushing this line, although, probably, he should have given up and invited Seungmin on a normal date, one that excludes a session of sketching sharp knees and includes gentle caressing under the table at a cozy café. It seems this guy is really too enthusiastic about such a strange body part.

You, 4:54 PM Um... Can I ask a question? What's so special about my knees that attracts you so much? Don't take it the wrong way, it's just really weird. You're the first one to say something like this to me.

Judging by the "Jungsu is typing" that doesn't disappear for at least three minutes, he seems to be preparing to unveil a whole ode to Seungmin in the message. An ode to his knees with a detailed description of how they saved him from a creative crisis on Thursday, May 30th. A short guide for beginner fetishists. Jungsu, 4:59 PM Okay, this might sound a bit cliché, but have you heard this phrase? "An artist sees beauty in everything, even in the mundane." I don't think it applies to me, but I'm trying to work on my perception right now. It's amazing how many things I've just overlooked. Your knees are one of those things... I mean, not that I've seen them before, but I definitely wouldn't have paid attention to them earlier. They have a very textured relief, you know? Interesting volumes, and shape. Does that mean anything to you at all? Seungmin stares at the screen, rereading the message several times and not knowing how to respond. Jungsu's words carry a certain academic seriousness that makes him pause and rethink. Jungsu, 5:01 PM You're probably not an artist, right? Otherwise, you wouldn't be asking me these questions. Anyway, if I'm asking for too much, if you feel uncomfortable, awkward, or anything else, just say so. Your knees are my dream now, but I'm actually a relatively decent portraitist, so I could also draw your face if that seems less strange. You have beautiful eyes. And a nice nose too, by the way. Seungmin bites his lower lip, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and satisfaction. Jungsu is definitely hitting on him – can he just brush him off now? Besides, he has no prior experience with artists, so – purely theoretically – this could turn into something interesting.

You, 5:05 PM Where and when?

***

The expanse of the dormitory corridor ends abruptly with a concrete wall as Seungmin reaches the furthest room on the floor and stops in front of it. He carefully studies the plaque with the room number, meticulously comparing the digits with those glowing on the screen of his phone from their recent dialogue. As if afraid of making a mistake. But no, everything matches. Breathing intermittently (from the marathon to the 6th floor, not because of the guy living in room 612), Seungmin fixes his gaze on the door, absorbing every detail. He notices the scratches on the handle, a small crack just below it, a shallow dent at eye level. Perhaps the previous model, the one with beautiful knees, couldn't handle it and decided to bang their head against the wooden surface. Seungmin feels like doing the same thing now. His fingers twitch nervously and freeze as if buried in liquid nitrogen. Seungmin tries to push aside all his anxieties and sighs resolutely. His knuckles touch the surface without making a sound. His hand hovers in the air, as if seeking support where it will never be found. Unless Jungsu doesn't come out and preemptively smacks Seungmin's nose with the solid door. Gathering his courage, Seungmin finally knocks on the door three times, and the sound echoes through the quiet corridor. He stands still, listening to what is happening inside the room. Every second feels like a slowly flowing eternity until, finally, the door opens. Jungsu stands in the doorway, visibly excited. His light hair is tousled, strands falling haphazardly on his forehead, creating some intricate pattern. A gray-black streak runs down his left cheek. A pencil? Pencils don't usually smudge that much... at least not the ones Seungmin uses. "Hi!" "There's something on your face." They speak simultaneously: Jungsu's voice sounds warm and cheerful, a broad smile lighting up his lips; Seungmin's words are barely distinguishable and hesitant, and he gestures to his own cheek, hinting at the mysterious mark on Jungsu's face. Jungsu's smile doesn't fade; he simply wipes his soft cheek with the sleeve of his oversized sweater, paying no attention to it. "Come in," he says, and Seungmin feels like the smeared darkness beneath the cheek will soon find its own mouth and join the conversation. Of course, Seungmin doesn't dare to talk about it and simply steps over the threshold, entering Jungsu's domain. The room – its right side – is a reflection of its owner. It's a kaleidoscope of colors and creativity, to which Seungmin feels as distant as the moon. The wall is adorned with drawings, polaroids, and colorful posters. They occupy almost every square centimeter but harmoniously blend together. Detailed sketches of faces, surrealist landscapes, and abstract forms alternate with photographs capturing fleeting moments of joy. Bright posters are like cherries on top. In contrast to the order hiding the old wallpaper, there's chaos on the table, bed, and even on the floor in some places. Organized, it seems. Various drawing supplies are scattered everywhere. Brushes stand in jars like soldiers, but some of their comrades lie drunkenly nearby, with bristles stained in bright hues. Tubes and jars of paint sprout like wildflowers wherever there's space. And open albums, notebooks, and scattered sheets of paper of different shades and sizes are like ubiquitous weeds. Amidst all this artistic madness, a figure with headphones around the neck and a half-eaten sandwich in hand is tucked away. The presence of a third person (and a second, Seungmin) seems almost out of place amidst the creative chaos. "Hey, Jungsu-ah, who's this Pokémon?" the guy (the one with the half-eaten masterpiece of student cuisine in his hand) asks, examining Seungmin with undisguised interest. "Jooyeon, this is Seungmin," Jungsu quickly introduces him. "Seungmin, it's my roommate, Jooyeon. He was just about to leave." "Was I?" Jooyeon raises an eyebrow, clearly not planning to get up from his comfortable spot. "You were," Jungsu asserts firmly and shoots him a meaningful glance. With an exaggerated sigh and a dramatic roll of his eyes, Jooyeon stands up and heads towards the exit as is, not even attempting to take his backpack or any single item like a laptop. "Fine, fine," he mutters, putting on his slippers. "I'll leave you lovebirds alone. But you owe me, Jungsu-ah. Big time." As a parting gesture, he winks at Seungmin, and he can only interpret this gesture in one way. It seems Jooyeon isn't aware of the impending knee-sketching session. Not knee-elbow. With a desperate blush, Seungmin can't decide what he'd prefer right now. Suddenly, it seems like sex isn't such an embarrassing thing compared to what he agreed to. Jungsu will be scrutinizing his knees, and it's unclear for how long and how intensely. Oh God... The room becomes quieter without Jooyeon, breeding dark fantasies in Seungmin's mind once again. Jungsu's eyes are burning so brightly; it seems he definitely has some unhealthy... interest, fetish, kink, quirk. He still smiles shyly, probably not thinking about pencils at all. And why didn't Seungmin insist on a public place, like a café or a green park? Why did Jungsu kick out his roommate? "Thanks for coming," Jungsu says, as if reading Seungmin's thoughts. "Shall we begin?" Seungmin already wants to embarrassingly flee, not understanding what he actually feels about the impending process, but Jungsu gestures to the bed, inviting him to sit, and it acts like a spell. The mattress creaks under his buttocks, and all his muscles tense up at once. "Relax," Jungsu gently requests, taking a huge brown spiral-bound notebook and a few pencils in hand. He sits opposite, on Jooyeon's bed, and squints. "Just sit however you're comfortable. And then don't move your legs until I tell you, or... or I'll be upset." Jungsu squeezes out an endearing half-smile, and it seems like he wanted to end the last sentence differently. Shivers run down Seungmin's spine (whether from that smile or from the thought that Jungsu could threaten him with something more serious), but he tries to look casual, leaning back against the wall and crossing one leg over the other. Jungsu studies the newfound pose for a while with a slightly tense gaze, but in the end, he seems satisfied and starts drawing, quickly moving the pencil across the paper. Seungmin doesn't know if he can start a conversation now, so he doesn't risk it and retrieves his phone from his pocket instead.

You, 2:16 PM This dude is drawing my knees right now. He kicked out his roommate, so we're alone. Gunil-hyung! Hello! What if this is the last message in my life, and you don't even bother to read it?

Seungmin nervously bites his lip, thinking that all the stars align for him to finally open his mouth and start chatting with the Weird Guy Who Draws Knees out of sheer boredom. But after several painfully long minutes, two checkmarks appear under each of the messages. Goo Gunil, 2:21 PM Chill, dude. You're in the dorm, remember? You can't even smoke here without consequences. I'm glad your love life is taking off, but I'm a bit busy with my own, okay? Working on my thesis draft, and the deadline is midnight. If you're that bored, text Jiseok. Seungmin sighs in disappointment and floods the chat with a dozen sad cat stickers but decides not to annoy his senior friend any further, so as instructed, he switches to a new target.

You, 2:24 PM Hey, Jiseok-ah. How's life treating you? Tell me something about that Jungsu-hyung of yours.

Kwak Jiseok, 2:25 PM I thought he's your Jungsu-hyung now. Junnie told me you just dropped by his place. For that, I thank you. My respect. Until you come back. I hope you won't come back.

You, 2:27 PM How nice of you. Wait, are you in our room? Just dare to fuck in my bed, and I'll screw both your heads off. Did you hear me??

Kwak Jiseok, 2:27 PM Ew. So vulgar and inappropriate, Mr. Oh. Anyway, getting back to Jungsu-hyung... Yesterday in English class, he was quite enthusiastic, giving a talk about Armin Meiwes. You know, that German cannibal? Who asked for permission to kill and eat his victim?

You, 2:29 PM You're messing with me. Notice, it wasn't a question.

Kwak Jiseok, 2:29 PM I'm dead serious. Ask him!! The talk about a chopped-off dick with garlic is quite fascinating. You could offer yours as a snack. Well, without the garlic and chopping. Probably.

You, 2:30 PM Ew. So vulgar and inappropriate, Mr. Kwak.

Kwak Jiseok, 2:30 PM Agreed. Damn, I actually know very little about him. We only chat in English class if we're lucky. But look, he wouldn't let a gay-vegetarian athlete go on a Mars expedition. How's that for TMI?

You, 2:31 PM Why such hate for the poor gay-vegetarian athlete? And what the heck is even going on in your English class?

Kwak Jiseok, 2:31 PM We finished the textbook, so we entertain ourselves as much as we can. I'm too lazy to explain to you why the poor guy missed out on seeing Mars. And Junnie sends you a "juicy spit in the face because you're annoying".

You, 2:32 PM Hyeongjun doesn't talk like that.

Kwak Jiseok, 2:32 PM Only with you. Alright, Romeo, shove your phone somewhere far away and have a chat with Jungsu-hyung, while we go do our thing. Better don't come back before 4 PM.

You, 2:33 PM My threat still stands. Bye.

Seungmin sighs, setting his phone aside, immediately losing it amidst the folds of the blanket. He feels somewhat calmer with the semi-distracted conversation but still jittery. Jungsu's quiet, concentrated hum fills the room, and Seungmin finds strange comfort in this melody, mixed with the rhythmic scratching of the pencil. He lightly wiggles his toes, trying to ease the tension in his muscles but maintaining his posture. Jungsu immediately notices this and looks up, meeting Seungmin's gaze. "Everything okay?" he asks in a gentle voice, though his expression suggests he's about to scold Seungmin harshly if the answer is "No." So Seungmin just nods. "If you need a break, let me know." Seungmin nods again, and Jungsu returns to his work. How many drawings has he managed to do? At least one, right? Or will Seungmin stay here until late into the night? Despite Jiseok's dreadful humor, Seungmin can't help but notice how genuinely focused Jungsu looks when he draws. His face is like he's solving some particularly complex differential equations. The ones with an asterisk next to the number in the problem set. The thought makes him smirk to himself and shake his head. "What's funny?" Jungsu asks in the same soft tone, but this time not raising his gaze above Seungmin's knees, which, by the way, are still adorned with green-yellow bruises. "Just imagined you with the same expression in a calculus class," Seungmin shrugs, deciding not to delve into the details that Jiseok was cracking about. "God forbid," Jungsu replies with a slight chuckle. His lips curl up in a smile, the nature of which Seungmin vaguely understands. "I hate math." "Me too," Seungmin admits, unable to hold back, laughing out loud, causing his whole body to shake in semi-seizures, his foot accidentally sliding off his knee and touching the floor with the heel, dispersing the air in the room, despite Jungsu's displeased "Hey!" that escapes his mouth. "Sorry. How was I sitting?" Seungmin tries to return to the position he was in before, but Jungsu's lips remain puckered, indicating clear discrepancies with the fixed indicators on the paper. Seungmin tries to remember, to catch the exact angle, but it seems he's not doing well because, in normal life, no one cares about the position they sit in. "Like this?" Seungmin asks, hoping his version is close enough to what Jungsu managed to depict. Jungsu tilts his head to the side, critically assessing his attempt. "Almost," he says, pushing the notepad aside and getting up from the bed. Seungmin only now notices that it's not even properly made, unlike the one where his own poor bottom is currently parked. Perhaps he's just trying to distract himself with this fact while Jungsu approaches him closely and carefully places his hand on his thigh just above the knee, moving Seungmin's leg literally by two millimeters. "Like this." Seungmin feels warmth spreading to his cheeks from such a brief touch, resembling an electric shock. He swallows hard, trying to maintain composure as Jungsu retreats to his spot and continues drawing as if nothing happened. Silence reigns in the room again - almost fatal. It's only broken by Jungsu's quiet humming and the sound of the pencil gliding over the paper. God, Seungmin never thought a regular pencil could be so loud. As Jungsu continues to torment (or caress?) the paper, bubbles burst under Seungmin's skin. He really wants to say something, ask a question, or joke, but at the same time, he wants to scold himself, hit himself on the head, and say, "Seungmin, are you completely stupid?" "So what were you..." slips out of his mouth before he realizes it. Sighing, he shakes his head and gives up, finishing the question. "What were you doing at the gym? I mean, as far as I remember, you didn't look like someone who was doing some sports..." The pencil freezes in the middle of a sweeping motion, and Jungsu raises his eyes with a slightly shy smile on his lips. "Yeah, that's true," he nods, then looks back down at the notepad on his lap. "I actually went there to sketch. Not... not people, just the interior. I needed it for my coursework. Although I wanted to leave and come back later as soon as I saw that you guys were throwing the ball around like a weapon of mass destruction. But..." "But you stayed because my knees caught your attention?" Jungsu's cheeks blush, he nervously chuckles and twirls the pencil in his hand like some anti-stress toy. "Not exactly," he confesses, briefly meeting Seungmin's gaze and then looking away. "Yeah, I mean, I definitely noticed them, but that's not the only reason I stayed." Seungmin raises an eyebrow, intrigued by such an answer. "And what were the other reasons?" Jungsu releases the poor wooden stick with a graphite core from his trembling grip and ruffles his hair at the back of his head, emitting a very informative "Um" and seeking help from the cracks in the whitewashed ceiling. "Well, I..." he starts hesitantly, but quickly gathers himself and looks directly into Seungmin's eyes, speaking quite firmly. "You seemed interesting to me, and I kinda wanted to talk to you." "Oh, so that little mischievous Kwak Jiseok was telling me horror stories for nothing. You really don't know how to ask someone out properly," Seungmin says with a chuckle, covering his mouth with his hand. "Like a normal guy, I mean. Without all this knee stuff." Jungsu laughs too, returning his attention to the notepad and rustling its pages. "Yeah, I think that's true," he quietly agrees. "You know that joke? 'If an artist has drawn you more than twice, consider that he's flirting with you'?" Seungmin honestly doesn't know this joke, but he doesn't get a chance to say so. "So," Jungsu draws out, lifting and turning his notepad so that Seungmin can see the red-blue sketches inside. At first, they're just faceless human figures clad in the same clothes - a baggy T-shirt and sports shorts. But then Jungsu flips further, revealing the next spread, which contains two portraits. "Is that me?" Seungmin asks, raising his eyebrows in surprise. He wants to stand up, approach, and examine properly, but then he remembers that changing posture without Jungsu's permission is unlikely to be welcomed. Although right now, it seems like Jungsu himself doesn't remember that. "Yeah, I drew it on Thursday," Jungsu explains. "But don't flatter yourself too much; there are other guys too, just a bit more sketches of you for some reason," he chuckles and closes the notepad with a clap. "Whether because you were the only one who sat on the bench for five minutes, so I could look at you properly, or simply because I liked you." A pleasant warmth spreads in Seungmin's chest, and he can't help but smile again. "You liked me, huh?" he gently teases. The words seem to slip off his tongue, almost without the involvement of his brain, but Seungmin doesn't regret them because Jungsu blushes again and bites his lower lip, giving a slight nod in response. In the room, there's a comfortable silence for a few moments, this time filled not with the sound of a pencil scratching against paper, but with an acrid mix of anticipation. Seungmin takes a deep breath and decides to break it. "Can I get up now?" he says, raising an eyebrow. Jungsu lets out a quiet chuckle, apparently expecting a different question. "Sure," he almost whispers in response. Seungmin moves cautiously, like a wild cat on the prowl, as he crosses the room and sits next to Jungsu. Their thighs touch, albeit through layers of clothing, but the spark still crawls under the skin. "You know," Seungmin starts in a quiet and serious tone, "I really didn't want to come here today. But now... now I'm really glad I did." He looks Jungsu in the eyes, and Jungsu looks back just as directly and openly, not hiding an ounce of his emotions, making Seungmin's heart beat a little faster and louder in his chest. "Thank you for coming," he replies tenderly. "I think I've already said this, but it doesn't hurt to repeat it." Seungmin stretches his lips into a smile. "You still have that thing on your face, is it some new makeup trend?" he teases, slowly reaching out his hand toward Jungsu's cheek and touching it with the pad of his thumb, trying to wipe off the strange paint from his skin, but failing. "No, it's just... charcoal, probably," Jungsu explains. "I was working on this before you came, and, apparently, as always, I made a mess of myself." Seungmin honestly doesn't even know what he means. Charcoal is something related to carbon, isn't it? Hell, it doesn't matter at all... His gaze drops to Jungsu's lips, so plump and attractive, like a 4K Ultra HD display. His pulse quickens even more, and Seungmin eagerly runs his tongue between his own lips in anticipation. "Can I...?" he asks almost inaudibly. Jungsu doesn't wait for the question to be fully articulated and doesn't bother with a verbal answer. Instead, he leans forward, closing the distance, and their lips meet in a tender, hesitant kiss. It's soft and sweet—Seungmin feels like it tastes of promises of something new and very exciting. There's nothing supernatural and nothing that could heat up the air between their bodies, but Seungmin's breath catches, and goosebumps crawl under the collar of his shirt. He greedily inhales air when Jungsu pulls away. "So..." Jungsu says, gripping the sides of his notepad tightly. "Would you like to go somewhere with me? Like, on a proper date?" Seungmin doesn't even feel like laughing at Jungsu's evident struggles with such invitations anymore. He simply nods eagerly and says, "With pleasure."