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Megan likes to think of herself as a typical introvert.
She keeps to herself just fine, content with staying curled up somewhere quiet during her breaks. But every now and then, usually when she isn’t exhausted from rehearsals, her skin starts to itch with restlessness.
Unfortunately, boredom strikes her easily. And when Megan gets bored—which happens rather frequently—she tends to make it everyone’s problem. That’s how she ended up sprawled across Yoonchae’s bed in the hotel room, which is on a different floor from hers.
Megan’s been here for a while now, legs dangling off the bed as she watches Yoonchae sketch in silence. She’d actually been sitting upright like a respectable citizen when she first arrived, quietly sitting beside her girlfriend because she simply “needed her presence” and nothing else.
However, Megan, bless her soul, could not stay still to save her life. So, she started off by scooting closer to Yoonchae on the bed, leaning her head on the younger girl’s shoulder.
“What are you working on?” she asked for the third time, hoping for a sliver of the blonde’s attention.
Yoonchae’s only reply came in the form of a distracted hum as her pencil kept moving on the paper in quick strokes.
It was nice for a while, but Megan had to move because the blonde’s hair tickled her face lightly. That prompted her to lie down on her stomach, chin propped on her hands as she continued watching the sketch take shape into something with wings and swirling vines.
“Wait,” Megan mused. “That’s kinda similar to the design you had on your gap hoodie.”
The blonde hummed lightly. “I think I’ve found a pattern I like more than my usual drawings.”
Even as she admired the sketch, Megan huffed, feeling boredom gnawing at her again. She rolled onto her back and stretched her limbs across the bed. Yoonchae seemed to be pretty immune to this distraction, her focus locked on the notebook.
“I know I said that you can do your thing, and I won’t bother you, but I’m genuinely dying of boredom.” Yoonchae doesn’t look up even as Megan’s voice comes out all whiny, but the corners of her mouth twitch slightly.
“You’re already making a mess on my bed,” she mutters, waving at a pillow threatening to fall off.
“Not my fault that you seem to love your sketchbook more than me.”
It’s not until Megan starts doing snow angel motions that Yoonchae looks at her. She laughs under her breath, finally setting her notebook aside and giving all her attention to her girlfriend.
Megan stares up at her with her lips jutted out slightly, hand moving to clutch onto the younger girl’s hoodie sleeve. “Chae, can you draw something on me?”
“I’ve literally got a sketchbook right here. Do you want to draw something on it?”
“No,” she shakes her head, brown locks moving against the sheets. “I mean, make me your canvas.”
Yoonchae crosses her arms. “Well, the last time I did that, you got the cherry blossom tattooed.”
Megan rolls onto her side. “I liked it too much, it was exactly my type. But I kinda want another one now.” She blinks up at Yoonchae with wide eyes, cranking her pout up to full power as she tugs at the fabric in her hand.
Yoonchae sighs, but Megan can already see her resolve crumbling. She sits up suddenly, pulling her shirt over her head and exposing her back to the blonde as she speaks. “Wait—can you do that one? The moth thingy from your sketchbook?”
“On your back?” The younger girl blinks. “You can’t even see it.”
“That’s what makes it cool,” Megan lies on her stomach, wiggling in anticipation as she pleads again. “Please, Chae?”
Yoonchae caves in, walking to the desk to grab a pen. Megan feels the bed dip when the younger girl returns, knees settling at her sides as she makes herself comfortable.
“I don’t want my drawing ruined, so you’d better not move,” the blonde warns, gently brushing Megan’s hair aside.
Megan grins, basking in the full weight of Yoonchae’s attention. “I won’t, trust.”
Yoonchae leans down, one hand splayed across Megan’s back for balance. “Do you want me to do a small design or—”
“Go big. I did ask you to make me your canvas, right?”
Yoonchae hums, slipping fully into artist mode as she traces the outline of a moth on the expanse of Megan’s back.
The cherry blossom behind Megan’s ear catches the blonde’s attention when a few strands of hair slip loose again. Yoonchae brushes them aside absentmindedly, fingertips tracing lightly over the petals inked into her skin before she returns to the design on Megan’s back.
Megan grips the sheets beneath her palms when Yoonchae’s thumb brushes right where her previously drawn tattoo sits. She belatedly realizes that this might have been a bad idea altogether as a single sweep of Yoonchae’s hand sends shivers down her spine.
The sole aim of her life at the moment is to stay still, because that’s what Yoonchae wants. She isn’t making it easy for Megan, however.
It takes everything in the older girl not to move, because shifting even the slightest bit could ruin the drawing. If the drawing is ruined, Yoonchae might get annoyed—something Megan normally wouldn’t mind nearly as much because she finds it undeniably hot, but right now that would mean losing Yoonchae’s attention to her sketchbook. And Megan isn’t ready for that. She is ready to do just about anything to keep Yoonchae’s hands on her.
She tries to focus on the warmth of Yoonchae’s palms splayed broadly across her back, on the gentle drag of pen over her skin, and not on how it gets harder to breathe with her heart slamming wildly against her ribcage. She quickly decides that shifting her focus to Yoonchae’s touch might be even worse as she feels the urge to arch into every feather-light touch.
Megan quietly suffers (read: thrives under Yoonchae’s undivided attention) through it all in silence while Yoonchae works on the drawing, completely unaware that the sketchbook has been abandoned for as long as Megan stays in the room.
Yoonchae finally pulls away after what feels like decades, surveying her handiwork with a little satisfied nod before sliding off Megan’s back. The older girl is left boneless, melted into the sheets by the lingering heat of Yoonchae’s palms, now accompanied by the newly drawn design.
Megan regains her composure—somewhat—as her phone buzzes. She rushes to answer the call, her voice unsteady. “Yeah? You can pick the place while I get ready.” She glances at the clock, forcing herself to sit upright. “Like fifteen minutes, maybe?”
She manages to wobble to her feet, blood rushing the wrong way when she stands too quickly. “Alright, be there at forty.” She hangs up and fumbles to get her head through her shirt again.
“I’m supposed to go out with Lara, thank you for this.” She presses a soft kiss to Yoonchae’s cheek before hurrying out, completely missing the way Yoonchae’s gaze lingers on her until she’s out the door.