#top fluff

“No way she likes your brother already. You two share the same face, how did he beat you at it with ten words maximum?”

Se mi’s voice rang out over the low hum of a tattoo machine from the next booth. She leaned against the counter, flipping a sterilized piercing needle between her fingers like a cigarette. Dressed in an oversized band tee and ripped jeans, her short, choppy hair was pushed back just enough to show off the silver stud in her brow.

Su Bong, sitting on the customer chair with one leg bouncing impatiently, exhaled “He barely even spoke. I don’t get what captured her.”

Se mi snorted “Maybe that’s exactly it. You talk too much.”

He shot her an unimpressed look. “I do not.”

She arched a brow, biting down a grin. “Uh-huh, so when does he start?”

Su Bong breathed in dramatic relief, leaning back like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “He canceled. I heard him tell her he wouldn’t sign up, something about not having enough time.”

Se mi paused “Then what are you so worried about?”

Su bong hesitated, drumming his fingers on his thigh. “I just…” He scowled. “I don’t get it. It’s not like she was even paying attention to him.”

Se mi made a face. “Yeah, totally. That’s why you’ve been thinking about him this whole time, huh?”

Su Bong grabbed a stress ball from the counter and chucked it at her—She dodged it laughing. “Wow. That was such a normal, non-defensive reaction.”

“Shut up.”

Se mi crossed her arms, watching him. “Y’know, I don’t get it. You always act like you don’t give a shit about your brother, but the second he walks into your territory, you turn into a twelve year old boy with sibling rivalry issues.”

Su Bong clicked his tongue, but didn’t deny it.

Se Mi sighed and hopped onto the counter, swinging her legs. “Look, I’m just saying, if she really liked him, you would’ve seen it. I’ve been in that class. That girl? She’s got a soft spot for people who need saving.”

Su Bong glanced up at her, he was worried again.

“Relax” Se mi grinned “I meant people like me. You know, strays.”

Su Bong rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched. “You’re not a stray, you just have a bad haircut.”

She gasped, clutching her chest. “You asshole”

He let out a small laugh, but it faded quickly. His mind was elsewhere.

Se mi nudged him with her foot. “Look. If you’re that bothered, maybe stop focusing on what he’s doing and start thinking about what you’re doing.”

Su Bong scoffed, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’m not ‘bothered.’”

Se mi smirked. “Right. And I don’t like girls.”

He threw another stress ball at her.

➽──────────────❥

The studio was quiet. The faint scent of paint and linseed oil lingered in the air. It was peaceful and empty—except for you.

The elevator doors suddenly opened. At first, you thought it was too early for any students to be arriving, but when you glanced up from organizing your materials, you saw him.

Seunghyun.

He lingers hesitant. The usual confidence he carries, seems misplaced here, like a coat worn inside out. He doesn’t have his cap this time, just a pair of dark sunglasses shielding his eyes. Without them, he might look less like someone avoiding recognition and more like someone avoiding being seen at all.

For a long second, neither of you speak.

“…You’re early” you finally say, setting a dirty paintbrush down.

His lips part slightly, but the words don’t come immediately. Instead, he takes off his sunglasses, revealing eyes that scan the room like he’s memorizing an exit route.

“I wanted to come before everyone else” he says simply. His voice is deep but quiet—not shy, just peaceful.

You nod, understanding something unspoken. You don’t ask why. Instead, you gesture toward the empty classroom. “You can come in.”

He steps inside and his gaze flickers over the walls, the half-dried paintings stacked against the back, the brushes left soaking in murky jars. It’s not completely foreign to him.

You watch as he exhales, adjusting the sleeves of his shirt. There’s tension in his shoulders, a kind of restraint, like he’s bracing for something, judgment? maybe. A mistake?

“Is it your first time taking a class like this?” you ask whilr curiously watching his reaction.

A pause. Then a faint scoff, almost amused. “No.”

You raise a brow “Then what made you sign up?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Not because he doesn’t have an answer, but because he has too many. The truth is layered.

Maybe it’s curiosity. Maybe it’s his brother’s presence.

Maybe it’s you. Instead, he says “I wanted to see what you teach.” It’s a half-truth, but one that earns him a small, knowing smile from you.

“Well, I hope you learn something new”

Something in his chest loosens, just a little.

For a moment, the quiet between you isn’t uncomfortable. It simply exists. Then, the distant sound of footsteps outside reminds you both that this moment will soon slip away, replaced by the presence of others.

You move toward your desk, grabbing a clipboard. “Here” you say, handing it to him. “Paperwork, for registration.”

His fingers brush against yours as he takes it.

You give him space as he fills it out, watching him from the corner of your eye. He’s meticulous, his handwriting sharp.

The scratch of pen against paper comes to a stop. A pause, then the subtle shift of fabric as Seunghyun leans back, fingers brushing over the edge of the clipboard before he sets the pen down. He doesn’t say anything, just stands and begins to walk through the drying canvases lined against the walls.

You watch him for a second before assuming he’s finished with the paperwork. Quietly, you approach the table, pick up his registration form, and skim through his information, his handwriting is neat, slightly slanted, sharp but elegant.

Then, his voice cuts through “What kind of painting will the class focus on?”

You glance up. Seunghyun isn’t looking at you yet, his gaze still wandering over the artwork, but his interest seems genuine.

“Well” you start, stepping forward, “it depends on the individual. Some people come here to learn technique, others for expression. Some want precision, some want freedom. I teach a little of everything, but mostly… I teach people how to listen to their own type of art.”

Seunghyun turns to you then, you meet his eyes properly—no sunglasses, no caps.

They’re the same shape as Su Bong’s, but everything else is different. Su Bong’s eyes are playful, and always on the verge of amusement or provocation. Seunghyun’s? Weightier. They don’t just look at you, they experiment with you, like he’s peeling back layers you don’t even know you have.

You blink, the moment stretching for a second too long before you break eye contact, placing his form back on the desk. “Where did you learn art before?”

“With a Japanese teacher” he replies “A man.” His answer is direct, his lips tilting just slightly into a barely-there smile.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him smile at you.

He exhales through his nose, shifting his weight. “I’m relieved the art teacher is a woman this time.”

You tilt your head slightly, smiling back, but you don’t laugh like he does. His words intrigue you. “Why?”

“I think it’s better to do things with the opposite sex.”

Your lips part slightly.

The way he says it is so casual, makes it feel deeper. It makes you pause, and it makes you think. You’ve always felt something similar; there’s a certain energy, an unspoken contrast that makes learning, working, existing alongside the opposite sex… entertaining and yearning.

Seunghyun studies your reaction, then after a lingering beat, he asks, “Do you agree?”

Your mind flickers through unspoken thoughts, your gaze dropping slightly before returning to his. What kind of things?

“…Sometimes” you admit, and then, because you can feel him watching you a little too intently, you add, “I do appreciate some femme company, though.”

The word femme rolls off your tongue with an accent, it makes him chuckle under his breath, like he finds it both amusing and, unexpectedly charming.

“How long have you been teaching?” he asks, shifting the subject

You smile at him and cross your arms loosely as you lean against the table. “Since I graduated at twenty-two. I’m twenty-four now.”

He nods, taking that in. “You seem young to be a teacher.”

You lift a brow. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No. It’s… impressive”

You smile at that. Not because of what he said, but because of how he said it, quietly sincere, lacking the usual weight of charm or formality. Just a simple truth.

Seunghyun glances toward the other side of the room. “Can I see them again?”

“The paintings?”

He nods.

Wordlessly, you lead him to the same from yesterday. Your off the shoulder top slides slightly as you move and even though you don’t notice Seunghyun’s eyes trailing after you, he notices such details.

Once you reach the paintings, you step back, instinctively giving him space.

But instead of moving forward, he steps beside you instead. Close enough that you catch the faintest scent of his cologne.

He studies the pieces in silence.

You watch him, waiting for a reaction. But his expression doesn’t shift much, only his gaze sharpening slightly as he absorbs the details.

Then, without looking away, he asks, “Why did you choose art?”

You weren’t expecting the question. Not that one, at least.

Your lips part slightly, thoughts flickering through your mind. How do you explain something that has always just been?

“…Because paintings take me somewhere else” you finally confess, but your voice is quieter now, and thoughtful. “Somewhere outside of here—outside of earth. Art is… otherworldly.”

Seunghyun’s eyes flicker toward you.

“When I look at certain pieces, I feel like I know myself better than I do in reality. Like there’s something else inside of me—something unexplainable, that only comes out through color and shape.”

A new sound suddenly emerges, soft at first, then it grows. The door to the studio swings open, followed by the lively shuffle of footsteps and the rustling of bags. Laughter spills into the once-quiet spacez Someone jokes about running late, another teases them for their excuse. Paintbrushes clatter against tables, stools scrape against the wooden floor.

Your students have arrived.

You glance toward the entrance, watching as they move through the space. A silent thought passes through you. I hope you find comfort here.

Here, among the easels and canvases. Among strangers who don’t demand anything from him. Among you.

You turn back to Seunghyun, catching the way he lingers near a different painting, as quiet as before. His gaze follows you when you step past him, moving toward the heart of the studio.

Your smile is soft and warm, like a sunny day after a snowstorm “Join us when you’re ready”

You don’t wait for an answer and Seunghyun doesn’t give one. He only watches you, absorbing something unspeakable, something light and ethereal in the way you move.

Then, you step out into the art room—“Finally, she’s back!” someone exclaims playfully. Another voice chimes in, “We were starting to think you abandoned us.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you place a stack of sketchbooks onto one of the tables. “Please. As if you could get rid of me.”

“Then where were you?” one of your students teases.

You lift a brow, tilting your head with mock curiosity. “Did I miss something? Are my whereabouts now a group concern?”

“Yes” someone pipes up from the back.

Laughter ripples through the room. You cross your arms, feigning deep contemplation. “Hmm… should I tell you, or should I let the mystery last … ?”

“We hate mystery” one of the younger students groans dramatically.

“That’s not true” a young girl interjects. “She’s a painter. Painters and women live for mystery.”

“And you all live to question mr” you counter with a grin, tapping a brush against your palm. “Fine. I was—”

But before you can finish Seunghyun steps through the doorframe.

The studio doesn’t fall completely silent but a subtle shift happens, like a single drop of ink dissolving into water. A few students glance his way, recognition flickering in their expressions. Some seem curious, others cautious.

They don’t say anything outright. They know better.

After all, they’ve seen Su Bong visit you countless times, invading your space like he belonged there. But Seunghyun? He’s different, he’s the brother that isn’t often talked about.

Seunghyun moves toward the desk where his sign-up form still rests, settling into the same seat. Two other students, younger guys, take the seats beside him. They pay him no mind, either they don’t recognize him, or they simply don’t care.

You don’t draw attention to him, don’t make any gestures that would single him out. He already looks like he’s trying to make himself smaller.

Instead, you step toward the center of the room, surrounded by the nine tables arranged in a loose circle. The familiar pulse of anticipation settles in your chest as you scan the room, meeting each gaze, grounding yourself in this space.

You begin “Before we dive in” your voice is calm but loud enough to carry through the room, “I want to introduce today’s focus. It’s something I thought about early this morning, something that just felt right.”

You pause “Exploring personal identity through portraiture.”

A few murmurs of interest. Some students nod. Others tilt their heads, considering.

You glance at the canvases lining the walls, then back at them.

“I don’t just mean self-portraits” you clarify. “I mean something deeper than that. A portrait doesn’t just capture a face, it captures an essence.”

You step forward, weaving your gaze through the space between them.

“Who are you when you paint yourself?” you ask softly.

The room stills.

“Are you who you think you are? Or are you something else? Something you don’t even realize until it’s laid out in color and form?”

A slow breath in.

“The way we see ourselves… it’s complicated. Sometimes we think we know, but the second we touch brush to canvas, something unexpected emerges. A shadow of something hidden. A light we didn’t know was there.”

You let that linger, watching the way their expressions shift, not just in understanding, but in introspection.

Seunghyun hasn’t moved. His hands rest lightly on the edge of the table, you can tell he’s listening.

You continue.

“Today’s not about getting it right. It’s not about perfection, or technique, or whether something looks the way you intended. It’s about discovery. It’s about asking yourself, who am I, and letting your hands answer before your mind does.”

A pause. Then, a gentle smile “Let’s begin.”

The room hums with the familiar sounds of an art class coming to life, canvas edges brushing against tabletops, the soft scrape of pencils testing paper, the occasional pop of a paint tube being squeezed onto a palette.

You greet students as they settle in, adjusting easels where needed, and ensuring everyone has what they need. Some students bring their own materials—worn sketchbooks with pages curling at the edges, personalized brushes, palettes that have seen countless colors blended into something new. Others rely on the studio’s supplies.

Seunghyun lingers near one of the supply tables, his fingers skimming the edges of a wooden box filled with charcoal sticks. His gaze flickers across the room, watching as you move between students.

There’s something different about the way you teach. He had expected strict instructions, maybe a distant professionalism, but instead, there’s warmth—real, unrestrained warmth.

You joke lightly with an older woman about how she’s claimed the same corner every week, tease a younger guy about how he always ‘forgets’ to clean his brushes, and share an inside joke with a pair of women in their thirties that makes them laugh in that knowing way friends do.

Seunghyun shifts his attention away, glancing out the large window beside him. The city hums beyond the glass, distant figures moving along the sidewalks, cars gliding past. For a moment, he lets himself settle into the quiet, into the comfort of being unseen—Then your voice cuts through his thoughts “Sketchbook or canvas?”

He blinks, turning toward you. You’re standing a step away, waiting expectantly with immersive patience

He considers. “Canvas.”

Without hesitation, you reach above for one from the stack, Seunghyun catches the scent of something delicate—something like sweet perfume and faint traces of paint. You carefully bring down the canvas & hand it to him, then, without another word, move on to the next table.

You kneel beside a student struggling to adjust her easel, lifting the frame slightly before locking it into place. There’s an ease in the way you move, in the way you smile when she thanks you and in the way you brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you rise again.

Seunghyun watches, silent. He doesn’t want to understand the feeling that’s settling in his chest.

You return to the center of the room, clapping your hands once “All right, everyone! Before we dive into today’s topic, let’s start with something to loosen up.”

A few students groan playfully, already anticipating some kind of challenge. You laugh “I promise, it’s easy” you assure them. “We’re going to start by finding the face within—that means no reference photos, no mirrors, no overthinking. Just your hand, your pencil, and whatever comes to the surface.”

Seunghyun raises a brow slightly. He watches as students grab their pencils, some already doodling absentmindedly on the edges of their sketchbooks.

“You can close your eyes if it helps” you continue. “Think of the way your face feels rather than how it looks. Where does the weight settle? What features do you notice first? Let your hand move without second guessing.”

Some students take your advice, shutting their eyes as they start to sketch. Others glance at their blank pages hesitantly before making their first marks.

Seunghyun stands by his easel, one hand resting lightly on the edge of the frame while the other taps his pencil against the blank page. His body holds a tension he doesn’t quite know how to release—like an instinct he can’t unlearn.

The studio hums around him, filled with the gentle murmurs of students lost in their own worlds. He’s used to creating alone, used to the quiet of his own space, the weight of his own expectations. But here, he has no blueprint, no set idea of what he’s supposed to make.

It unsettles him.

His mind doesn’t wander to his own face at first—his instinct is to recreate something perfect, something precise, But that isn’t the point of this exercise, is it?

“Let go of expectation.” Your voice drifts through the room, gentle but firm, guiding your students “Let the lines take shape before you understand them. Let the strokes reveal something you don’t see yet.”

Seunghyun exhales slowly. He lets the pencil move.

The strokes start controlled—but then, the sound of your voice lingers in his mind, pushing against the rigidity of his usual method. His grip loosens. He lets the lines become something softer, something undefined.

You step closer again, peeking at his page. Unlike the others, he isn’t sketching blindly or with rushed, unpolished strokes. His lines are careful, like he’s still holding himself back.

You don’t interrupt, but you tilt your head slightly, watching, then you smile, like you already know something he doesn’t.

You step back into the heart of the studio again, where laughter and light talk fill the air, then the screen on your phone lights up flashing Su Bong’s name.

The sudden ring cuts through the steady rhythm of the studio, You excuse yourself lifting your phone to your ear as you nod toward one of the younger students “Minji, you’re in charge. Don’t let them bully you” you tease.

Minji, a green-eyed girl in her early twenties, grins. “I am the bully.”

A few students chuckle as you slip out the door, stepping into the hallway. The quiet hum of the elevator greets you as you press the button, lifting your phone to your ear just as you step inside.

“YAAAAH~!” Su Bong’s voice bursts through the speaker, so loud and so unnecessary that you immediately pull the phone away. “What you doing? You thinking about me yet? You missing me?”

You roll your eyes, unable to suppress the amused grin tugging at your lips. “I was thinking about how peaceful my day was before you called.”

“Tch, This is why your love life is in shambles.”

“I have a love life?”

“EXACTLY!” he exclaims, laughing. “I’m about to file a complaint. You got a good man like me right here, calling you first thing in the morning, and you don’t even appreciate it.”

You step out of the elevator, the scent of fresh coffee and warm pastries from the café next door guide you to the door.

“You’re right. I should’ve written you a thank you letter by now” The pastry shop’s bell jingles as you push the door open, moving toward the counter

“At least!”

You chuckle “With flowers and all?—”

“And perfume. Make it all dramatic, like those historical K-dramas. ‘My Dearest Su Bong, my heart beats but for thee—’”

You laugh, shaking your head as you glance at the menu. “You’re ridiculous, you do know it’s past 12pm right?”

“And you’re too pretty to be this mean to me. It’s unfair.”

The barista catches your eye, and you hold up two fingers—one coffee, one pastry. As you wait, you lean against the counter, balancing your phone between your ear and shoulder. “So? What’s up, Su Bong? What do you need from me now?”

“Lunch!” he declares. “You, me, food, an hour. Let’s go.”

Your fingers drum against the counter. “I can’t. I’m teaching until late today.”

“Tch, what’s more important? The art of feeding yourself or whatever weird therapy session you got going on up there?”

You snort. “I can feed myself just fine, thanks.”

“Mm. Debatable.”

You shake your head, accepting your coffee from the barista with a grateful nod. “Look, I’ll be busy all afternoon. But I can meet you for breakfast tomorrow.”

“Breakfast?”

“Mm. First thing in the morning.”

“Oooooh, a morning date. You’re really into me, huh?”

You smirk. “I’m pitying you. Huge difference.”

“Pitying me?!” Su Bong gasps, all mock offense. “I’ll have you know, people would kill to have breakfast with me.”

“I am having breakfast with you.”

“EXACTLY.”

You roll your eyes, sipping your coffee as you walk back toward the studio. “Okay, I gotta go—”

“Wait, wait—”

You pause mid-step. “What?”

There’s a beat of silence “Kiss me through the phone.”

You burst out laughing, earning a few odd glances from passing pedestrians. “You did not just—”

“I DID. Now do it. Muah. Your turn.”

You shake your head, barely containing your laughter. “Bye, Su Bong.”

“Wow, no love. No heart. No romance in this woman’s bones.”

“Bye, Su Bong.”

“Don’t forget our date, Miss Art Teacher.”

Before you can respond, he hangs up.

You glance toward the studio entrance, but something in your periphery stops you.

There, a little to the side of the building, Seunghyun stands with a cigarette between his fingers. The end glows dimly as he takes a slow drag, the smoke curling around him before dissolving into the air. His gaze is distant, fixed somewhere past the city. There’s a quietness about him, a subtle weight to his stance, as if the wind itself could knock him over if it tried hard enough.

For the first time since meeting him, he looks completely unguarded.

Seunghyun catches movement from the corner of his eye and turns slightly. As he exhales, a thin stream of smoke escapes his lips, and his eyes find yours. There’s no rush to his reaction, no startled flicker of emotion, just a slow, barely there smile, something close to acknowledgment but softer.

The wind tugs at your hair, loosening a strand from your braid, and you push it behind your ear as you step toward him. “Hi”

His gaze lingers on you for a moment before he speaks. “Hi.”

You hesitate before asking, “How do you like the class so far?”

He glances away briefly, as if considering, then exhales another slow breath. “It’s… welcoming.” His voice is low, careful. Then, after a pause, he adds, “Your voice is very soothing.”

Surprised, you blink at him. “What? Really?”

The corners of his lips twitch slightly. “Yes.”

You chuckle, the sound light and easy, and something about it makes him breathe out a quiet laugh as well.

A silence settles between you, not awkward anymore. Then, after a beat, he confesses, “I almost didn’t come. Thought about sleeping in instead.”

You nod, understanding without needing further explanation. “You were nervous.”

He doesn’t confirm or deny it, but the way his fingers twitch slightly around the cigarette tells you enough. The wind shifts again, making the ash at the tip of his cigarette glow before he taps it off absently. You glance at the movement, and he notices. Without a word, he lifts the cigarette slightly, silently offering it to you.

You shake your head “I don’t like the taste of cigarettes”.

Seunghyun nods once, as if he expected that answer. He takes another drag, slower this time as he studies you. There’s something about the way you stand here, so at ease in the open air, it’s different from what he’s used to.

His thoughts flick briefly to Su Bong; reckless, brash, a storm in human form. And then there’s you, softer but not fragile. He wonders how you ended up orbiting someone like that. But he doesn’t ask.

Instead, you shift your weight slightly and gesture toward the door. “I should head back in.”

Seunghyun nods, flicking the cigarette once more before stepping forward. You move toward the entrance, but before you can reach the door, he gets there first, pulling it open without a word. You pause for just a second, glancing up at him, surprised by the gesture. He’s already put out his cigarette, deciding to head back in with you.

You offer a quiet, appreciative smile. “Thanks.”

He doesn’t respond, just tilts his head slightly as if to say, go ahead.

And so you do, stepping inside. The warmth of the building replaces the crisp air, and as you make your way back toward the elevator.

The two of you step into the elevator, the quiet hum of the machinery filling the space as it carries you both back up.

The art room hums with soft conversation, the light outside shifting into the deep gold of late afternoon. You weave through the space, checking in on each student as they work through the final moments of class.

At one table, the two women in their thirties glance at you with knowing smiles.

“So” one of them murmurs, feigning innocence as she smooths out a napkin covered in charcoal dust. “He got here before us today, huh?”

“And he left when you left” the other adds, voice conspiratorial but quiet enough that only you can hear.

You roll your eyes, unable to suppress a grin. “Oh, come on.”

They both laugh under their breath, nudging each other like they’ve uncovered something scandalous.

“We’re just saying” the first woman teases. “He seems… invested.”

“Yeah, in his art” you counter, smirking. “Which is what you should be focused on, by the way.”

They giggle, one of them raising her hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. We’ll stop.”

Satisfied, you move on, but the smile remains on your lips.

As the afternoon stretches on, you check the time and decide to wrap things up “Alright, let’s start putting our work away” you announce, clapping your hands together lightly. “We’ll pick up where we left off next time.”

There’s a chorus of groans, the usual reluctance from those who always feel like they could use just a few more minutes, but soon, people begin cleaning their stations.

“Who’s coming tomorrow?” you ask, leaning against a nearby table. A handful of hands shoot up immediately, while others exchange looks before shaking their heads.

“I wish” someone sighs. “But I have work.”

“Same” another groans.

As you move to start tidying up stray brushes and palettes, something catches your attention: Seunghyun hasn’t moved. While everyone else is packing away their work, he’s still seated at his spot, completely undisturbed by the shifting atmosphere of the room. His focus is quiet, meditative.

The guys at his table start heading out, nodding their goodbyes. “See you.”

Seunghyun glances up briefly, returning the nod. “See you.”

Once the last of the students trickle out, you step over to him, leaning slightly against the nearby table. “You’re staying?”

He nods, dragging his paintbrush over the canvas. “I didn’t finish.”

Something about it is… unusual. You’ve had students linger before, but Seunghyun doesn’t strike you as the type to stay longer than necessary. Still, you don’t question it too much.

“That’s fine” you say. “But aren’t you hungry? You can take a break and come back later if you want.”

Seunghyun shakes his head, eyes still on his work. “I don’t eat much.”

You frown slightly at that, but before you can respond, he glances at you. “Are you hungry?”

The shift in subject is unexpected.

“If you want to grab lunch, go ahead” he continues. “I’ll wait.”

There’s something strangely solemn about the way he says it, as if he’s already decided he won’t be moving from this spot. You consider him for a moment, his posture, the way his fingers rest against the pencil, how even now, he seems wholly immersed in something beyond the paper in front of him.

You shake your head, amused. “Well, I had coffee, so I’m fine.”

He gives a small nod before refocusing on his work.

You move around the room, putting away the remaining tools left behind. The space is quieter now, just the occasional scrape of a pencil and the distant sounds of the city outside.

Then, out of nowhere, Seunghyun asks, “Is this how you paint, too?”

You pause slightly, glancing over your shoulder. “What do you mean?”

His gaze doesn’t leave his paper. “Taught.”

You understand his meaning immediately.

“No” you answer simply. “This is how I teach.”

He looks up, waiting for you to explain.

You step closer, brushing your hands off on a rag. “Art can’t really be taught” you explain, voice softer now. “At least, not in the way people think. It’s more psychological than technical. People come here looking for something; a distraction, a purpose, an outlet. And when they choose to express themselves through art, all I do is show them how to mold it.” You gesture slightly. “I don’t mold it for them.”

Seunghyun watches you carefully, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Then, after a moment, he nods.

“That makes sense” he murmurs.

A few silent seconds pass before you tilt your head. “What about you? What inspired you to become an artist?”

For the first time since you started talking, Seunghyun hesitates. He exhales slowly, leaning back against the chair “A friend” he replies. “A wise friend.”

Your brows lift slightly, intrigued. “They taught you art?”

“They taught me the psychology of it” he clarifies. “How to see beyond the surface. How to make something that doesn’t just exist—but speaks.”

You let his words settle between you, understanding their weight even without knowing the full story behind them.

The door creaks open, and the first student of the evening class steps in.

Mr. Kangjeon, a distinguished man in his fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair neatly combed back and an easy air of confidence, enters with a polite smile. Dressed in a tailored blazer over a crisp shirt, he carries himself with the quiet dignity of someone who has lived well but remains grounded.

“Ah, good evening” he greets warmly, bowing his head slightly in your direction before shifting his attention to Seunghyun. His eyes gleam with curiosity. “And you must be new?”

Seunghyun, always one to recognize formalities, immediately stands from his seat and bows in return. “Yes. My name is Choi Seunghyun.” His voice is composed, respectful, and oddly familiar in its politeness—something about the way he introduces himself reminds you of your first encounter with him at the museum.

Only now do you realize that back then, he never actually told you his name. Somehow, your conversation had skipped over the basics, diving straight into the details—where you worked, where the art studio was.

Mr. Kangjeon nods in approval at Seunghyun’s formality. “Welcome, young man.”

Without waiting for instructions, Mr. Kangjeon begins setting up his easel beside Seunghyun. You smile to yourself. He’s been coming here long enough to know the routine, this class always starts with the students preparing their materials before you even introduce the evening’s focus.

Seunghyun watches him in silence until Mr. Kangjeon, with the ease of someone who enjoys conversation, turns to him again.

“So, what brings you here?” he asks, unfolding a canvas with practiced hands. “Looking for an escape, or something more?”

The phrasing of the question makes you glance over. Seunghyun exhales lightly, his fingers tapping once against the edge of his brush before he replies, “Something like that.”

Mr. Kangjeon chuckles knowingly. “Art has a way of giving people what they need, even when they don’t know what they’re looking for.”

Seunghyun considers this before offering a small, almost imperceptible nod.

The studio door swings open again, bringing in more students.

Among them, two familiar voices spill into the space before their owners even fully step inside.

“I swear you’re doing this on purpose” Se-mi teases, her arm casually slung around Min-su’s shoulders as they walk in together. “You always pretend you don’t hear me when I call your name.”

Min-su, the ever-soft, ever-shy but secretly hilarious 23-year-old, shakes his head, laughing. “I honestly didn’t hear you. I was listening to music.”

“You were ignoring me” she accuses playfully, finally releasing him with an exaggerated sigh.

He grins. “If I was ignoring you, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

Their banter continues as they approach, both greeting you with bright smiles.

“Hey, you” Se-mi chimes, nudging your arm. “You look great, as always.”

You smirk. “Flattery will get you nowhere, but keep going.”

She laughs, bumping you lightly. “See, this is why I like you.”

“You like me?” you tease. “I thought we were just tolerating each other at this point.”

Min-su chuckles at your exchange before moving to set up his easel, choosing a spot not far from Seunghyun. He always preferred canvas over sketchbooks, while Se-mi, true to herself, settles into a chair with her sketchbook instead of setting up an easel.

As she gets comfortable, she casually lets her gaze drift across the room, until her eyes land on Seunghyun. Her body tenses just slightly, recognition sparking in her expression. Because she knows who he is.

Hours ago, at the parlor, Su-bong had mentioned him in passing. That alone had been enough for her curiosity to get the best of her … so, naturally, she’d looked him up. But didn’t Su-bong say Seunghyun had canceled the class?

Someone lied.

As the rest of the students settle in, the atmosphere shifts, this class is different. There’s less stiffness, less hesitance. Everyone here is comfortable, familiar. They don’t wait for instructions; they already know what they’re doing. Tubes of oil and acrylic paint are uncapped, brushes are dipped into palettes, and the room fills with the faint scent of turpentine.

You step into the center of the room, clapping your hands lightly. “Alright, everyone, you know the drill. We’re picking up where we left off last time. No speeches from me today.”

A few playful cheers rise from the group, and someone sarcastically mumbles, “Best news I’ve heard all day.”

You shoot a pointed look in their direction, placing a hand over your heart in mock offense. “Wow. That actually hurt.”

Laughter ripples through the room again.

Seunghyun watches the interaction with mild amusement, already noticing how different this dynamic is from the earlier class. The students here aren’t just focused, they’re relaxed, and that extends to you. The version of you he’s seeing now is looser, more playful, less of an instructor and more of…a participant.

And strangely enough, it puts him at ease, too.

Mr. Kangjeon, now fully set up beside him, dips a broad brush into deep blue paint and strokes it across his canvas, He glances at Seunghyun. “So, is this your first time working with oil?”

Seunghyun shakes his head, wiping a bit of charcoal from his fingertips onto a rag. “No, I’ve worked with it before.”

Mr. Kangjeon nods approvingly. “Good. That means I don’t have to warn you about how unforgiving it can be.”

Seunghyun lets out a soft chuckle. “I already learned that the hard way.”

The older man grins. “That’s the only way to learn.”

Their conversation is effortless, two vastly different people, yet somehow, they understand each other.

Throughout the class, Seunghyun surprises himself. Mr. Kangjeon is far from overbearing, and his presence is grounding. There’s no judgment, no expectation. And in return, Seunghyun finds himself responding in kind. He listens when the man shares bits of wisdom, about painting, about life, and he speaks when he feels like it, without pressure.

You watch from a distance as they work beside each other, their unexpected friendship forming in real time.

Meanwhile, across the room, Se-mi, who had been sketching idly—glances up again, eyes flicking toward Seunghyun. She still hasn’t processed the fact that he’s here.

Two more hours slip by in a haze of color and laughter, the sound of brushes against canvas, the occasional scrape of a palette knife, and bursts of quiet conversation.

You glance at the clock. The session is nearing its end when you hear your name—Mr. Kangjeon is calling you over with a wave of his hand.

You turn to see him gesturing you over with a small, pleased smile. You walk to his side, tilting your head in curiosity as you wipe your hands off on your apron “What’s up, Mr. Kangjeon?”

He eyes you for a moment before speaking, his expression warm. “Your outfit” he finally says, gesturing at you with a flick of his paintbrush. “You remind me of the women from my youth—elegant, classy.” He nods approvingly. “It’s rare to see nowadays.”

Your expression softens at the sincerity in his voice and a quiet chuckle escapes you. “You flatter me, Mr. Kangjeon.”

“I only speak the truth” he compliments, then leans slightly toward you, his voice dropping in a conspiratorial way. “I have something to show you.”

You follow his gaze to his canvas, and the moment your eyes land on it, your breath catches slightly.

“Wow.” You blink, stepping closer. “This is beautiful.” Pure, unfiltered admiration colors your voice as you take in the final product.

The piece is rich with depth, layered strokes of color blending seamlessly into one another. It’s striking, emotional, a reflection of its creator’s wisdom and patience.

Mr. Kangjeon watches your reaction closely, there’s a glint of anticipation in his eyes, he’s proud of his work, but more than that, he wants you to be proud of it, too. “Would you like to show it to the class?”

You bite back a knowing smile. Of course, he wants you to show it off for him. He could easily do it himself, but that wasn’t the point, he wanted you to share in his pride.

Before you can respond, Seunghyun, who has been quietly observing from beside him, exhales a small amused laugh. The way the older man waits expectantly, the way he subtly preens under your attention, it’s endearing.

“Of course I will” you admit warmly, turning to Mr. Kangjeon with a nod. “Let’s show them what you’ve done.”

You and Mr. Kangjeon move to turn the easel, but before you can adjust its position, Seunghyun steps in, fingers lightly gripping the wooden frame. Without a word, he helps guide it around so the class can see.

You glance up at him, meeting his gaze for a brief moment. His assistance had been unprompted. A soft smile touches your lips. “Thank you” you voice just above a whisper.

His lips twitch, almost as if he wants to respond, but instead, he simply nods once.

With the easel now positioned, you address the class, your voice lifting with excitement. “Alright, everyone, gather around! We have a masterpiece to admire.”

The students, already familiar with this routine, immediately begin to rise from their seats, moving toward you and Mr. Kangjeon. As you slowly turn the easel around to face them, an audible murmur of appreciation ripples through the group.

“Damn, Mr. Kangjeon, you really ate with this one” Se-mi teases, nudging Min-su, who chuckles softly beside her.

Mr. Kangjeon merely smiles, pleased but modest. “I had good inspiration.”

The crowd gathers near Mr. Kangjeon and Seunghyun, but the energy remains relaxed, filled with murmurs of admiration and easygoing praise.

As the class winds down, the once lively chatter softens into the steady hum of cleaning up. Brushes are rinsed, palettes are wiped down, and easels are folded away. You glance at your phone—8PM. The evening had flown by.

You weave through the organized chaos, making your way toward Se-mi and Min-su, who are huddled in conversation with Mr. Kangjeon. Their laughter stands out against the quieter background noise.

Min-su spots you first. “Noona!” he calls, his tone dripping with playful betrayal. “Se-mi keeps messing with me again!”

Se-mi, leaning against the table with her arms crossed, smirks at him before glancing at you. “Don’t listen to him. He’s too easy to bully.”

You arch a brow, crossing your arms. “Se-mi, are you terrorizing Min-su again?”

“I’d never” she says, feigning innocence.

“Let him breathe” you relent, nudging Se-mi.

She grins. “Fine, I’ll be nice… but only because I have a very important invitation.”

You tilt your head in curiosity.

“BBQ” she announces, wiggling her brows. “You in?”

Before you can even answer, Min-su perks up. “Can I come?”

Se-mi immediately turns to glare at him like he just crushed her master plan. “Why are you like this?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “If Min-su’s coming, so should Mr. Kangjeon.”

Mr. Kangjeon, who had been quietly amused by your exchange, chuckles. “I’ll never turn down good food.”

Min-su nudges you lightly. “Can I ride with you? My brother dropped me off.”

“Of course” you reply, slipping your phone into your purse.

Mr. Kangjeon nods. “I’ll meet you all there, I brought my own car.”

“Same” Se-mi adds, giving Min-su one last teasing nudge before heading toward the door.

The last of the students filter out, as you sling your purse over your shoulder—Seunghyun approaches, his presence quieter than the others but no less noticeable. His gaze finds yours “Thank you” his voice is low but genuine. “For letting me sign up last minute.”

You shake your head with a small smile. “You don’t have to thank me. Everyone is welcome, even if it’s last minute.”

A tinge of something crosses his features, something unexplainable yet warm. He lingers for a heartbeat before asking, “Would you mind giving me your number? Just so I can let you know if I won’t be coming to class.” he offers his phone with the dialing keypad open

Your lips twitch. “Oh, so you think you can drop out now?” you tease as you reach for his phone

Seunghyun barely lifts a brow at you.

You tilt your head playfully. “Once you signed your name on that paper, you signed a contract. No take-backs, no disappearing acts.” you type your number and create a new contact under your name before handing him back the phone

A slow smirk forms on his lips as realization dawns. “Ah” he exhales, amusement laced in his tone as he takes back his phone. “You just don’t want to let go of me now.”

The boldness of his words catches you off guard.

Heat creeps up your neck, your breath hitching for a split second before you laugh; a light, surprised sound. He had been so composed all day, so quiet. This sudden shift, this unexpected playfulness; has you momentarily disarmed.

His smirk deepens at your reaction, his confidence subtly growing “What?” he presses, tilting his head. “Was I right?”

You scoff before finally smiling, stepping toward the elevator. “Seunghyun—If you’re done fishing for compliments, we should probably get going”

His name rolls off your tongue so easily, and he notices. His gaze lingers a moment too long, as if testing the sound of it in his head. Seunghyun exhales a quiet chuckle, finally following you without argument.

The elevator doors slide open, and as you both step inside, there’s a shift in the air. Subtle. A newfound comfort between you both.

Once inside the elevator, the hum of the machinery fills the space as the doors slide shut, enclosing you and Seunghyun in a quiet moment.

“You have a good class” he says suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice is smooth. “It has a… rare essence to it.”

You glance at him, intrigued. “Essence?”

His gaze meets yours. “The energy. The atmosphere.” A pause, then a slight tilt of his head. “But maybe… it’s your essence that sets the mood.”

Something about the way he says it makes warmth creep up your neck again, but you don’t let it show. Instead, you let out a small breath of amusement “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is” he affirms.

You nod in acknowledgment before changing the subject. “Mr. Kangjeon is a kind man. He’s been coming here for years. Even before i worked here, I hope you’ll show up every Sunday evening and be good to him.”

Seunghyun admires you for a moment, the corner of his lips tugging slightly. “You really care about your students.”

“They’re not just students” you reply simply, softly. “They’re my friends. And Mr. Kangjeon—he likes having people around. Especially younger ones, you must remind him of his son”

Seunghyun nods, a quiet understanding passing between you. He admires your thoughtfulness, the way you consider others beyond just the surface.

The elevator dings. The doors slide open.

As you and Seunghyun step out into the parking lot, you spot Min-su standing beside Se-mi.

Se-mi, who had been scrolling on her phone, lifts her gaze and watches the two of you exit together. Her eyes flick between you and Seunghyun, taking in the subtle details, like your ease with each other, the way your conversation seemed to linger even as you parted.

She doesn’t say anything. Instead, she lowers her gaze and casually taps out a message under a contact labeled ‘Pothead’: ‘We’re headed to BBQ’

Across from her, Min-su doesn’t seem to notice, already moving toward you as you wave him over.

Se-mi pockets her phone, calling out, “Don’t be late!” before heading off in her own direction.

You shake your head with a smile and turn to Min-su. “Come on, let’s go before Se-mi gives us hell.”

Once you and Min-su are in the car and buckled up, you glance over at him as you start the engine. “How’s college?”

Min-su exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s… fine. I guess.”

“You don’t sound too convinced.”

He huffs a small laugh. “It’s just—group projects suck. I hate working in groups, but I’m making an effort.”

You smile knowingly. “That’s good. College is about suffering, anyway.”

Min-su groans. “Don’t remind me.”

You chuckle as you pull onto the road, letting the conversation drift into easy chatter as the city lights blur past.

➽──────────────❥

The scent of grilled meat and spices greets you as you and Min-su step into the restaurant. The warm, smoky aroma is instantly inviting, and the sound of sizzling meat is abundant.

Se-mi has already claimed a table near the window, casually sipping on a drink while scrolling through her phone. She looks up as you both approach, grinning “Finally. I was starting to think you got lost.”

Min-su rolls his eyes. “We were literally right behind you.”

You shake your head with a laugh as you both take your seats.

Just then, the door swings open again.

Mr. Kangjeon steps inside—And right beside him is Seunghyun.

Your heart skips a beat, you feel self conscious but you quickly mask it.

Se-mi, on the other hand, does not. She blinks. Once. Twice.

Then, she slowly turns her gaze toward you—You pointedly avoid looking at Se-mi, fully aware that if you meet her gaze, you’ll see the unspoken Well, well, well written all over her face. And you know Seunghyun is perceptive, if you react too obviously, he’ll pick up on it in an instant.

Mr. Kangjeon, on the other hand, is blissfully unaware of the subtle tension. With a warm grin, he claps his hands together and greets everyone playfully before settling into his seat.

Seunghyun follows suit, sliding into the empty chair to your left, while Min-su remains on your right.

When Seunghyun turns to greet you, you return it warmly, your tone light and welcoming—“Hope I’m not coming off as clingy” he quips

You chuckle, leaning slightly toward him as you joke back, “A bit.”

He exhales a short laugh.

The server brings out an array of side dishes, small plates of kimchi, pickled radish, seasoned spinach, bean sprouts, fish cakes, and more. A platter of raw, marbled meats is set on the table along with a portable grill in the center.

Se-mi, still watching you out of the corner of her eye, finally shifts her focus as the grill heats up. “Alright, who’s manning the grill?” she asks, raising an eyebrow at the group.

Min-su instantly raises his hands in surrender. “Not me. I’ll burn everything.”

“I’ll do it” Seunghyun offers casually, reaching for the tongs without hesitation. His movements seem quite natural, like this isn’t his first time doing it.

Se-mi watches Seunghyun handle everything with ease, her expression momentarily slipping into one of genuine surprise before she schools it back into something more neutral. She looks away feigning nonchalance.

You observe him while the conversation around the table shifts into playful banter. Se-mi teases Min-su about his kitchen skills, or lack thereof, while Mr. Kangjeon chimes in like a patient father amused by his bickering children.

“You’re good at this, are you always the one who grills?” you ask curiously, your voice light with amusement

Seunghyun glances at you, a playful glint in his eyes. “Many times I am, you think I don’t eat?”

You shake your head, a smile playing on your lips. “I just didn’t expect you to actually know”

He exhales a short chuckle, turning the meat with an easy flick of the wrist. “That makes two of us.”

The low rumble of a motorcycle engine fades into the night as Su-bong pulls up outside the restaurant. He swings a leg over his bike, unbuckles his helmet, and runs a hand through his tousled hair before stepping inside. He doesn’t know exactly what he’s walking into, just that Se-mi had texted him about you and some BBQ.

Whe he finally spots you, his stomach twists.

You’re smiling; That coquettish, teasing smile—At Seunghyun.

Su-bong stops in his tracks, eyes narrowing as he takes in the sight, his brother—coolly tending to the grill, while you lean in ever so slightly, clearly entertained by whatever nonsense he’s charming you with.

For the hundredth time in his life, Su-bong understands why kids throw tantrums. His jaw tightens, but he smooths his expression before making his way over to the table. Nobody notices him at first, until you do.

From the corner of your eye, something familiar catches your attention. When you turn, you’re met with Su-bong’s sharp gaze.

Seunghyun follows your line of sight and spots his younger brother approaching. He doesn’t need to be a mind reader to know exactly what’s running through Su-bong’s head. He had been painfully obvious about his interest in you the day before.

Se-mi glances up too, blinking in mild surprise. Her expression reads, I didn’t know he was coming.

Su-bong stops at the table, scanning the faces of his friends before his lips curl into a smirk, though his tone carries a hint of playful betrayal. “Wow. My friends, huh?” He tilts his head. “No text? No invite?”

You roll your eyes at his dramatics. “Didn’t know you needed one.”

The table laughs, and for a second, it seems like the tension might dissolve, until Su-bong abruptly gestures at Min-su. “Move over.”

Min-su blinks. “What?”

“Get up. Give me your seat.”

You click your tongue, shaking your head. “Hey, bully. Leave Min-su alone.” You nod toward the empty seat across from you. “Sit there.”

Su-bong hesitates, but your firm look makes it clear you’re not budging. With a slow inhale, he pulls out the chair across from you and drops into it, his eyes flicking to Seunghyun for the first time.

Seunghyun, still effortlessly tending to the grill, doesn’t say anything at first. Then, as he casually flips another piece of meat, he finally speaks “Didn’t know you were joining us.”

Su-bong leans back, arms draping over the chair. “Didn’t you hear? I don’t needed an invitation.” His eyes flick to you again—expecting something, waiting for you to say something.

You glance at Su-bong, sensing something off in his demeanor. He’s bothered—but why? You don’t quite understand, so you offer him a small, reassuring look, as if to silently ask, What’s wrong?

It does nothing. His shoulders remain tense, his gaze flickering between you and Seunghyun.

Then, Mr. Kangjeon suddenly perks up, his eyes widening in realization. “Wait a minute—” He gestures between the two brothers. “You two are twins?”

Min-su, without missing a beat, grins. “Seunghyun’s the better-looking one.”

Su-bong’s head snaps toward him, eyes narrowing in pure betrayal.

You laugh, surprised by how easily the childish remark gets under his skin.

Se-mi, amused, leans forward with curiosity. “Who was born first?”

Before Su-bong can answer, Seunghyun casually flips a piece of meat and deadpans, “We were born at the same time. Holding hands.”

The table erupts in laughter at the sheer absurdity of it. Even Se-mi laughs, shaking her head

Su-bong, however, doesn’t even crack a smile. He picks up a freshly grilled piece of meat, casually dropping it onto his plate before answering, “He’s ten minutes older.”

You blink in surprise, turning to Seunghyun with amusement. “Really?!”

Su-bong’s chopsticks pause midair. He scoffs, eyeing you with mild exasperation. “Hey! I said it. Why are you looking at him?”

You and Seunghyun both turn to Su-bong at the exact same time.

Se-mi chuckles, shaking her head. “You’re twins. You’re basically the same age. Nobody can be older.”

Min-su grins cheekily. “Su-bong acts like the younger one, though.”

Su-bong clicks his tongue, his gaze narrowing playfully at the younger one. “Hey, you little prick” he mutters, but there’s no real malice behind it “Seunghyun, why don’t you cut your little brother’s pork belly”

Seunghyun glances up from the grill “I don’t think Min-su’s gonna need me to babysit him” His hand reaches across to grab a piece of grilled meat from your plate with casual manner “I’ll help him finish his food tho”

You raise an eyebrow “Hey! that’s my food you’re stealing, not his.”

Su-bong’s eyes flick between you and Seunghyun, he can’t hide the jealousy in his chest as he shuts his eyes to try and simmer away the envy

Mr. Kangjeon casually cracks open a bottle of soju with a sharp pop.

Su-bong opens his eyes again, the edge in his jaw softening as he focuses on something he can actually control; without a word he leans forward, grabbing a perfectly grilled piece of pork belly from the grill and carefully extends his arm across the table, placing it gently on your plate, making sure it’s positioned just right.

You look up, meeting Su-bong’s eyes as he casually leans back in his chair, his gaze briefly lingering on you before he looks away, pretending it was no big deal. You smile softly, acknowledging the small act.

“Thank you su” you subtly thank him, he had to know you noticed

Su-bong’s lips curl up in the slightest smirk, but there’s a hint of something deeper in his eyes as he gives a small nod, the jealousy that had been clouding him momentarily fading.

Se-mi leans forward and picks up a piece of the grilled meat herself. “Mmm, this tastes so good” she hums with a playful grin. “Honestly, I’ve never had it taste this amazing. Must be because of who cooked it, you’re a cook Hyung”

Seunghyun nods with a friendly smile “Thank you” his gaze discreetly shifting between you and Su-bong, catching the soft line of tender tension between the two of you. He turns to Mr. Kangjeon, offering him more food.

Mr. Kangjeon gratefully accepts the offer, his usual cheerful smile brightening.

Su-bong’s eyes flick toward Seunghyun before he casually asks, “So, how did you end up having BBQ with Miss.Arte ?”

Seunghyun, ever the smartass, leans forward, a playful grin tugging at his lips as he replies, “Well, Se-mi, Min-su, and Mr. Kangjeon are also here.”

The table giggles, the humor easing any underlying tension. Su-bong tries to maintain his patience, but it’s clear the remark hit a nerve. He doesn’t show it much, though.

You smile and glance at Seunghyun, finally answering, “Well… Seunghyun signed up for the afternoon class—”

Se-mi’s eyes widen with curiosity. “Oh! Wow, he was there all day?!”

The realization hits Su-bong like a jolt—Seunghyun was really there all day? He fights the surge of jealousy, but it’s hard to ignore.

Seunghyun speaks again, his tone casual, though there’s a warmth to it. “Almost. But it’s a very soothing space, thanks to her” he gestures toward you, “So I really liked it.”

Su-bong’s eyes narrow, and he sips from a freshly opened soju bottle, which unintentionally leaves Se-mi without a bottle of her own. He doesn’t miss the chance to remark, “It’s never really that fun, it’s just… art.”

You gasp in feigned offense, the corners of your lips curling into a playful smile. “What? Just art?” you ask, half-shocked.

Before you can say anything else Seunghyun cuts in, “Perhaps we have different views and interests. I love art.”

Su-bong holds back an exaggerated eye roll, but just barely.

You turn to Seunghyun, giving him a soft smile and bowing your upper body slightly in gratitude. “Thank you for the compliment”—Seunghyun mirrors your gesture, bowing back with a charming smile.

At this point, Mr. Kangjeon, who’s been quietly watching the back-and-forth, chuckles and pipes in, “I’ve never met a more perfect combo between a student and their teacher than you two.”

Su-bong’s glares at the old man, but of course, Mr. Kangjeon doesn’t notice it.

Min-su, however, catches on. He watches the interactions between you, Seunghyun, and Su-bong, slowly becoming aware of the undercurrent of jealousy. Se-mi, noticing his shift in attention, nudges him, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she sees the entertainment unfolding.

She suddenly raises her soju bottle, proposing a toast. “To… longer days at the art institute …”

Everyone picks up their bottles in response, but Min-su, in his casual way, grabs yours instead of his own—completely unintentional.

Seunghyun, noticing the mix-up, immediately offers, “I’ll call the server for another bottle for you—”

You shake your head, a light smile playing on your lips. “It’s fine, really. I’m not in the mood to drink much, just a bit in a shot glass.”

Su-bong, still eyeing the exchange between you and Seunghyun, can’t quite hide his surprise at your refusal. He watches you for a moment longer, then takes another sip from his own bottle, convinced you’re just pretending not to drink to impress Seunghyun. His eyes narrow, though he says nothing.

Seunghyun, being the considerate one, pours some soju from his bottle into the tiny shot glass you’ve picked up from the table. The glass is delicate, a stark contrast to the deep, rich soju—Su-bong’s gaze flickers between the two of you again, his jealousy flaring.

Se-mi, with a small giggle, announces the toast. “To longer days at the art institute leading to art galleries for all!”

Everyone raises their bottles—you included, holding your shot glass up, the only one with a tiny sip of soju. The others drink deeply from their bottles, but you down the shot glass in one go.

The table chuckles at your casual confidence, but Su-bong’s glare sharpens. It’s clear from his expression that he’s not quite as amused as the others.

Mr. Kangjeon, ever the curious one, looks at Seunghyun with a smile. “So, Seunghyun, are you seeing anyone? I’ve got a daughter, you know. I’d be happy to introduce you.”

Seunghyun, with a polite but amused smile, subtly responds, “Oh, I’m actually seeing someone at the moment—” the same response he have the lady from the museum a day ago

Min-su, who’s been listening intently, seizes the opportunity to tease. “Well, Su-bong here is single, though.”

Su-bong feels a little flattered, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, but before he can say anything, Se-mi cuts in with a playful smirk. “Su-bong, you’ve got some serious expertise in making women run—and not look back.”

The table bursts into laughter, with Seunghyun even letting out a soft chuckle.

Then, Mr. Kangjeon turns to you, a curious gleam in his eyes. “How about you? Are you seeing anyone? I also have a son who’s around your age.”

Seunghyun looks at you, his gaze expecting, and Su-bong shifts his attention to Mr. Kangjeon, visibly interested in your response. Min-su, ever the troublemaker, adds, “She’s too good to fall for anyone. All men are dogs.” he repeats your often used phrased

A light laugh escapes you at Min-su’s remark, but before you can say anything, Min-su continues with his teasing. “Maybe you should ask Se-mi instead” he jokes

Se-mi glares at him, but Su-bong, sensing an opening, jumps in with his own playful jab. “Se-mi’s luck in dating is pretty bad. Her last partner was just like a microwave… hot, easy, quick—and a bunch of leftovers.”

The entire table erupts into laughter, with Se-mi nearly choking on her drink, you chuckle at Su bongs sharp edged humor.

Seunghyun, who’s been watching you throughout, smiles softly, he thinks about how you make even lewd jokes sound classy.

Before you can notice, Su-bong does “This is really getting annoying” he blurts out absentmindedly while reaching for another piece of meat from the grill, not realizing that it’s still sizzling hot as he takes a big bite. Instantly, his face contorts in pain, and he jumps up from his seat spitting the food.

➽──────────────❥

The night winds down quickly after that, the laughter fades into comfortable silence as the group finishes their meal. The bill is settled, and you all make your way out of the restaurant.

You walk alongside Min-su, your steps light, the cool evening air brushing against your face. Su-bong follows a few paces behind you, his eyes occasionally flicking between you and Min-su. As you approach your car, Su-bong calls out to you with a mischievous grin, “I’ll take you home.”

You pause for a moment, turning your head to reply with a smile. “I came in my car, good bye Su-bong” you try to make it sound light-hearted, though a small part of you feels a bit flattered.

Su-bong isn’t having it. He strides up to you, his hand reaching up to tug on your braid, his grin widening. “Let’s put my motorcycle in your car—”

You chuckle, ducking away from his hand with a playful swat. “Go home, Su-bong. Goodbye” you reply firmly but with an amused glint in your eyes.

He chuckles, a smile lingering, but doesn’t push it further. You continue walking to your car. Min-su is already waiting by the car, his hand raised in a friendly wave as Se-mi and Mr. Kangjeon drive off individually.

Just as you open the door to your car, Seunghyun approaches. His presence is calm and reassuring as he stops on the other side of your door, his smile as sincere as ever “Thanks for the lovely day”

You return the smile, a little surprised by the warmth of his words. “Of course. Drive home safely” you encourage him lightly, you’re at much of a loss for words really, pleased to know what he thinks of you … unable to tell him what you think of him.

He nods, his smile lingering a bit longer than usual, and with a small bow, he turns and walks toward his own car. As he gets in and drives off, you glance over at Su-bong, still leaning against his motorcycle, watching you with an unexpressing face.

You get in your car, the engine starting up as you drive off.

hi ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི i am the proudest to say i’m so happy with the love and support this series has been receiving (and it just began?! helloooo ???! thank you) if you want to be added to my taglist just let me know, everyone n their thoughts are welcome in this space 💌 thank you for reading and for the support if you made it this far mwaaaah ‹𝟹 i apologize for any typos 🌷 ps chapter 3 up tomorrow !

With a quiet sigh, you placed the bowl of soup on the coffee table in front of him. “I made you something to eat.”

He barely acknowledged you, just a slight shift of his eyes toward the bowl before looking away again. “I’m not hungry.”

“You always say that,” you said, crossing your arms. “But you still have to eat.”

“Not right now.” His voice was low, quiet.

You sat down beside him, determined not to let him sink any further into himself. “Seunghyun, when was the last time you had a proper meal?”

He didn’t answer. That was answer enough.

“You need to take care of yourself,” you said gently. “Even if it’s hard.”

For a long moment, he didn’t move. Then, finally, he let out a slow exhale and picked up the spoon. He took a small sip, barely more than a taste, but it was something.

A small smile tugged at your lips. “See? Not so bad, right?”

Seunghyun let out a quiet, almost hollow chuckle. “You’re too stubborn.”

“You’ve known me long enough to expect this by now,” you teased, hoping to lift the mood even just a little.

He didn’t respond, just kept eating slowly, like it was a chore. You knew he wasn’t enjoying it, not really. But at least he was trying. That was what mattered.

For weeks now, he had been shutting himself away. After everything that had happened—the scandal, the backlash, the isolation—he had retreated into his own world, letting the weight of it all bury him. You had seen glimpses of this side of him before, but never like this.

Seunghyun had always been someone larger than life. Confident. Creative. A force of nature. Seeing him like this, quiet and withdrawn, hurt more than you could put into words.

“You know,” you started carefully, watching his reaction, “you once told me that making music helped you through your hardest times.”

He stilled, his spoon hovering just above the bowl.

“You said it was the only thing that really let you express yourself,” you continued. “That when everything felt like too much, writing helped.”

Seunghyun slowly set the spoon down. His expression was unreadable, but you could see something shift in his eyes.

“I don’t know if that’s true anymore,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

“It is,” you said without hesitation. “Even if you don’t believe it right now, I do.”

He let out a slow breath, leaning back against the couch. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Then don’t think about starting,” you said. “Just write. Anything. Even if it’s messy, even if it doesn’t make sense. Just… let it out.”

He didn’t respond, just stared at the ceiling like he was searching for something there.

“You don’t have to share it with anyone,” you added. “Just do it for yourself.”

Silence stretched between you, but this time, it didn’t feel as heavy. It felt like he was actually considering it.

“You really think it’ll help?” he finally asked.

“I do.” You met his eyes, unwavering. “And even if you don’t believe in yourself right now, I still believe in you.”

Something flickered across his face—something fragile, hesitant. Hope.

For the first time in weeks, he didn’t look so lost.

He didn’t promise anything, didn’t say he would do it, but the fact that he was listening, that he was even thinking about it, was enough.

And it was just one of those evenings. You know the kind. After a long day of work when you are just covering for everyone and the second you are able to take off your headset and close down your laptop is also the second you feel like you can finally breathe for the day.

You had trudged to the living room and just sat down to a cooking show. Well, you slumped more than sat. Which is probably what cued to Seunghyun you had a bad day.

So he took it upon himself to rustle up some dinner and bring it to the coffee table in front of the couch.

That’s one of the things you really loved about him. You’d been living together for months now and he was a loud personality, but he knew when you needed some quiet time to decompress. 

The two of you ate in silence, making a comment here and there at the tv, and, when you were done, he cleaned up. When he came back from the kitchen though, he had you lay down with your head in his lap.

He pulled a fuzzy blanket off of the back of the couch and pulled it over you before he started playing with your hair.

You rolled to look up at him, but Seunghyun was just watching the tv, so you started playing with his other hand under the blanket, running it through the fuzzy pieces and locking and unlocking your fingers.

And he just keeps watching tv. 

So you reach out of the blanket and flip his bangs out of his face to try and break his focus.

But nope.

Next thing you do is pluck his glasses off his face and wear them yourself.

Try watching tv now.

You can see him trying to fight a smile but still refusing to look at you, so you roll towards him and wrap your arms around his stomach, nuzzling your chin into his abs and looking up at him.

Finally he looks down.

He takes a minute to fix your hair, brushing it out of your face and carefully combing it all back after he had made a mess of it when playing with it.

“How lucky am I,” he started softly, “that I get to spend my quiet hours like this?”

Your heart started absolutely glowing and you were sure your smile matched. Seunghyun leaned down to kiss you, but his glasses were a little oversized on your face and blocked.

“These have got to go,” he whispered above your face before removing them and tossing them to the end of the couch in what can only be described as pure dramatic Seunghyun fashion.

Then, his face dipped lower.

And even lower.

And he blew a raspberry on your neck, making you squirm and laugh.

Another thing you loved about him? The quiet, sweet moments never stayed quiet for too long.

//

“Heresy,” Jiyong mumbled aloud, still shuffling at a slow pace from one painting to the next. If he was being honest, Jiyong wasn't paying particular attention to these artworks. He was looking for one canvas specifically, but he didn't know where Seunghyun had actually placed it - it had been a while since they'd had time off to spend like this and it seemed that Seunghyun had rearranged the entire gallery while Jiyong was away.

Seunghyun followed behind Jiyong, unsure of what he was looking for. Neither of them spoke, but the silence was comfortable. Seunghyun smiled gently every time he looked at Jiyong shuffling about, pausing to glance over a canvas before moving on. The fabric of their robes made hushed noises, each reassuring the other that they were still following one another. Seunghyun took a final sip of his cocktail as Jiyong turned to face him, signature pout already on his lips.

“Where’d you put it?”

“Put what?”

“Our piece…” Jiyong picked at Seunghyun’s robe, avoiding eye contact. Seunghyun chuckled and took Jiyong’s hand in his own before leading him towards the end of the gallery. Sure enough, the massive floral painting that the pair had worked on was hanging on the wall, dominating the atmosphere. Arranged around the canvas were flowers, some local, some exotic.

“Are they real?” Jiyong gestured towards the display. Seunghyun nodded, watching his partner’s reaction carefully. Jiyong’s eyes lit up, and for a moment he looked as if he couldn’t become any happier in his entire life. Then he turned to Seunghyun. Seunghyun could see his lips moving, forming the words “beautiful” and “thank you”, but he couldn’t hear them. Instead, he was awestruck by Jiyong. His smile, his sparkling eyes, the way his hands clutched at each other in excitement. Seunghyun found himself moving closer, invading the younger man’s personal space. Said man still had his attention on the display before them, prompting Seunghyun to gently grip Jiyong’s chin and turn his head before dipping his own, locking their lips in a soft kiss. Jiyong made the smallest noise of surprise, melting into his partner and throwing his arms over Seunghyun’s shoulders.

The pair stayed in place for what felt like hours until eventually, Jiyong pulled away to rest his head on Seunghyun’s shoulder. Seunghyun buried his head into Jiyong’s neck in response, refusing to break even the smallest bit of contact.

Who knows how long the two men stood, swaying slightly, locked in a tight embrace sharing shy looks at one another. Jiyong silently prayed that, just like their painting, the love he felt for Seunghyun would be timeless. Speaking of the painting, he looked over to the display again. The splashes of colour littering the canvas merged and mingled, however, they still stood out as their own individual self. As if holding back from their true intentions of becoming one with the other. Much like himself and Seunghyun, Jiyong mussed. Sighing, he closed his eyes.

Tonight, they were going to forget all their responsibilities.