I've been learning how to draw and I'm just getting into anatomy, like learning all the muscles and the names and shit. n'all i can think about is law and i, sitting on the floor in front of the couch. he's got his medical books open, refreshing his knowledge of anatomy for my sake. I'm sat right next to him with my dumb notebook out, listening to him talk about muscles and what they do as i sketch. it evolves into him leaning against me, hazy eyed and tired, pointing to different things as i sketch bodies, telling me shit like, "there's cartilage between these two muscles, so they should be further apart..." - "your missing the muscle there." - "there's a muscle connecting these two parts..." his voice is soft and comfortable, a tone that's only reserved for me. he's studying the side of my face, not bothering to look at what I'm doing until i turn to him, so he doesn't realize I've started drawing his tattoos onto all of my sketches, until i turn to him with a proud smile on my face. his cheeks bloom pink and he hides his fluster behind a light scoff and an eyeroll, but he likes that I'm always thinking of him, thinking of ways to insert him into whatever I'm doing. it fills his stomach with butterflies and makes his heart do funny things.
