#rsj

These portraits are tinyyy - they're like 4x6 inches I think? I was practising free handing portraits at the time - that's why they're so small

am i the only one left on here who's still unwell about this man? how did no one scream at me about this??

beso - rosé

– listen to ‘beso’ by rosalía and rauw alejandro!

i just need another kiss, one of those that you give me

roseanne was always in your head, whether it was her face, her voice, her laughter, or her lips, maybe even her touch. she was always. on your mind. today, it was her kisses you thought about. how your favorite moments with her somehow involved her laying on her side while u sat criss-cross in front of her.. always talking useless topics before she gets tired of pretending like she isn’t burning to touch you, feel you, taste you.

you kiss like you’ve always known how, like no one has had to teach you.

it’s always then she takes her cue to tangle her hand in your hair and pull you towards her lips, where yours dance against them. her teeth sinking into your lips every now and then so you would make those noises she loved so much.

most times than others all you did at night after a long and tiring day was just that. kissing with only the breaks to talk about something meaningless or inside jokes the two of you had. usually in the dark, sometimes out on your balcony. rosé had grown used to expressing many thoughts and feelings over them, and you had gotten used to understanding them.

being away from you is hell, being close to you is my peace. I love whenever you arrive, and I hate when you leave.

the hardest part was the wait. the wait to see her, to touch her, all while millions of people were seeing her and taking her in every day.

you were so proud of rosé, consider yourself her no.1 fan, but damn, do you wish she could be amazing and successful just a little closer to home.

you can’t lie and say you barely see her, but even with the many times one of you flies to the other, it’s not enough. time feels as if it’s being lost whenever you’re apart.

it’s a repeating cycle, the anticipation builds as the days lead to your reunion, either rosé picks you up at the airport or it’s you who’s waiting outside an hour prior to her flight landing, and then you have the best next couple of days and both of you will cry when it’s time to say goodbye.

“i hate this” you pout on the bed while she finishes packing her suitcase, taking advantage of her visit to refresh the contents of it.

“i know. i do too baby.”

“i hate when you have to go back.” you welcome her embrace, while she wraps her arms around your shoulders and her tummy welcomes the side of your face, her own cheek meeting the top of your head as she leans in search of proximity.

“i don’t think i have to be there tomorrow” she begins the swaying and the searching for excuses as to stay.

“rosie”

“yeah. lisa’s flying in two days, fuck that!” she giggles and pushes the two of you on the bed, a little too excited to be ghosting her job for two more days.

sometimes it works, as shown, sometimes either of you caves and does the impossible to prolong your stay in the arms of your lover.

it forces you to make the best of your time together, even if you’re laying together doing absolutely nothing other than stare into each other’s soul, you enjoy each other’s company so much you soon came to the conclusion you wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.

the best thing I've got, is the love you give to me. It smells of tobacco and melon.

unpacking after spending time with rosé or doing laundry in her absence have to be one of the most endearingly painful situations. endearing, because the musk of her cologne and the faint smell her clothes have gathered because of her cigarettes spring on you endless memories of you and her late at night smoking and talking shit about everyone you knew.

painful because it reminds you of how much you miss her. but you wouldn’t have it any other way. you adore rosé so much you look forward to talk to her even if it’s thirty minutes with as much privacy as the corner in her dance room can allow. she loves you to the point of taking spontaneous trips home whenever she has a break longer than two days, she won’t tell anyone, she will just disappear and her members and crew have to trust she gets to the next destination in time, because she won’t answer any sort of text or call unless someone was dying.

you’ll hold on to the clothes she wore on her last day home until the scent fades completely, hating the infinite battle you had with sleep when she wasn’t there with you. but slowly you overcome it, when she starts getting more of a vote over her career she tried to be home as much as she could, and if she couldn’t be then she would do anything to take you with her.

and it’s more kissing at night while stargazing and less yearning to be together after so long apart. it’s more of the sunday nights you spent either having dinner at a fancy restaurant in the city, or overlooking it from a hill with takeout from your favorite place.