He turns around ang gives Kwangyeon a huge grin when he's finished with that one last bit of the wall that he's dragged on for so long. His smile is less awkward now compared to the one he had when they met about a week ago. He's been living there for a week and they've gotten so much closer with each other. Youngjun calls Kwangyeon over, the younger boy hesitating to put down the instrument he'd promised his hyung he's play every time that he wanted to paint.

"It's done, so come here and take look at it." He calls out, frowning when he notices that Kwangyeon's fingers were bleeding. "You okay?"\
Kwangyeon makes an effort to wipe his hand on his shorts, but he find that it's one made in vain when Youngjun grabs his hand and starts on his finger.

It's a habit of Youngjun's. Anything that bleeds, he'd . And he didn't know how much it made Kwangyeon uncomfortable because Kwangyeon would never let him know, because Youngjun seemed genuinely concerned and just letting him do his thing wouldn't hurt, right?

And he would be lying if he said that it didn't make him feel better.
It's just that having your fingers in someone else's mouth would make you uncomfortable.

Kwangyeon could only blink at the finished product. The week semed to stretch itself over years, decades, even. But that one small square told everything. The ideas, the coffee, the time it was, the crisis that both of them were in. The walk home, the stories they both told. He'd learned to understand Youngjun's art style by now. How he uses code and colors and sybols and how he pulls together things that shouldn't be together. But with the mess of things that don't quite fit and things that are too different to look good, he manages to make it look good.

Kwangyeon still hasn't figured out what he feels about Youngjun.
Youngjun's gotten an idea about his feelings, and he doesn't know whether to believe it or not.

It's Youngjun's instinct to be there every time Kwangyeon falls. The klutz can't help it, really, but he's been doing it less these days. He doesn't like seeing Youngjun worried; especially over him. Kwangyeon wanted to be the last person to ever let him feel any pain, because under his thick shell and his excuses about being an artist, Youngjun was fragile. He needed to feel loved just about as much as Kwangyeon did.

That much Kwangyeon understood.

It's Kwangyeon's instinct to run to the door after the bell rings. Because Youngjun's been gone for three days and he hasn't heard anything from him. It's also instinct when he tugs the older boy inside and hugs him like there's no tomorrow.

No one knows what it is when they kiss. But no one really complains either, because it felt just about right. No one knows what it is after the kiss, but there's the urge to kiss again. And they do.

And then they figure it out.

"I love you."