ŕ˝ŕ˝˛âĄâÍĚŕ˝ŕž i chase you, you chase who? :
thanos x f reader x t.o.p
10 minutes apart || CHAPTER 2
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ŕ§ťęŞ summary : seunghyun shows up for your art class, you witness him ease into your world with nervous patienceâafter class, he, your friends and you meet up for bbq when su bong shows up unexpectedly
ŕ§ťęŞ pairing : shy, barely flirty seunghyun x art teacher f reader x jealous su bong
ŕ§ťęŞ warnings : none for this part
ŕ§ťęŞ authors note : chapter twooooo. i hope u all enjoy some seunghyun x reader interactions đ communicate with me any thoughts pls! xoxo
ŕ§ťęŞ tag list : @breakmeoff @emmy-l-r @divinefeminineeeee @dietpepsiiiiii (ily all sm)
âNo way she likes your brother already. You two share the same face, how did he beat you at it with ten words maximum?â
Se miâs 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 âHe barely even spoke. I donât get what captured her.â
Se mi snorted âMaybe thatâs exactly it. You talk too much.â
He shot her an unimpressed look. âI do not.â
She arched a brow, biting down a grin. âUh-huh, so when does he start?â
Su Bong breathed in dramatic relief, leaning back like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. âHe canceled. I heard him tell her he wouldnât sign up, something about not having enough time.â
Se mi paused âThen what are you so worried about?â
Su bong hesitated, drumming his fingers on his thigh. âI justâŚâ He scowled. âI donât get it. Itâs not like she was even paying attention to him.â
Se mi made a face. âYeah, totally. Thatâs why youâve been thinking about him this whole time, huh?â
Su Bong grabbed a stress ball from the counter and chucked it at herâShe dodged it laughing. âWow. That was such a normal, non-defensive reaction.â
âShut up.â
Se mi crossed her arms, watching him. âYâknow, I donât get it. You always act like you donât 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.â
Su Bong clicked his tongue, but didnât deny it.
Se Mi sighed and hopped onto the counter, swinging her legs. âLook, Iâm just saying, if she really liked him, you wouldâve seen it. Iâve been in that class. That girl? Sheâs got a soft spot for people who need saving.â
Su Bong glanced up at her, he was worried again.
âRelaxâ Se mi grinned âI meant people like me. You know, strays.â
Su Bong rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched. âYouâre not a stray, you just have a bad haircut.â
She gasped, clutching her chest. âYou assholeâ
He let out a small laugh, but it faded quickly. His mind was elsewhere.
Se mi nudged him with her foot. âLook. If youâre that bothered, maybe stop focusing on what heâs doing and start thinking about what youâre doing.â
Su Bong scoffed, running a hand through his messy hair. âIâm not âbothered.ââ
Se mi smirked. âRight. And I donât like girls.â
He threw another stress ball at her.
â˝âââââââââââââââĽ
The studio was quiet. The faint scent of paint and linseed oil lingered in the air. It was peaceful and emptyâexcept 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 doesnât 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.
ââŚYouâre earlyâ you finally say, setting a dirty paintbrush down.
His lips part slightly, but the words donât come immediately. Instead, he takes off his sunglasses, revealing eyes that scan the room like heâs memorizing an exit route.
âI wanted to come before everyone elseâ he says simply. His voice is deep but quietânot shy, just peaceful.
You nod, understanding something unspoken. You donât ask why. Instead, you gesture toward the empty classroom. âYou can come in.â
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. Itâs not completely foreign to him.
You watch as he exhales, adjusting the sleeves of his shirt. Thereâs tension in his shoulders, a kind of restraint, like heâs bracing for something, judgment? maybe. A mistake?
âIs it your first time taking a class like this?â you ask whilr curiously watching his reaction.
A pause. Then a faint scoff, almost amused. âNo.â
You raise a brow âThen what made you sign up?â
He doesnât answer right away. Not because he doesnât have an answer, but because he has too many. The truth is layered.
Maybe itâs curiosity. Maybe itâs his brotherâs presence.
Maybe itâs you. Instead, he says âI wanted to see what you teach.â Itâs a half-truth, but one that earns him a small, knowing smile from you.
âWell, I hope you learn something newâ
Something in his chest loosens, just a little.
For a moment, the quiet between you isnât 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. âHereâ you say, handing it to him. âPaperwork, for registration.â
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. Heâs 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 doesnât say anything, just stands and begins to walk through the drying canvases lined against the walls.
You watch him for a second before assuming heâs 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 âWhat kind of painting will the class focus on?â
You glance up. Seunghyun isnât looking at you yet, his gaze still wandering over the artwork, but his interest seems genuine.
âWellâ you start, stepping forward, âit 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.â
Seunghyun turns to you then, you meet his eyes properlyâno sunglasses, no caps.
Theyâre the same shape as Su Bongâs, but everything else is different. Su Bongâs eyes are playful, and always on the verge of amusement or provocation. Seunghyunâs? Weightier. They donât just look at you, they experiment with you, like heâs peeling back layers you donât 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. âWhere did you learn art before?â
âWith a Japanese teacherâ he replies âA man.â His answer is direct, his lips tilting just slightly into a barely-there smile.
Itâs the first time youâve seen him smile at you.
He exhales through his nose, shifting his weight. âIâm relieved the art teacher is a woman this time.â
You tilt your head slightly, smiling back, but you donât laugh like he does. His words intrigue you. âWhy?â
âI think itâs better to do things with the opposite sex.â
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. Youâve always felt something similar; thereâs 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, âDo you agree?â
Your mind flickers through unspoken thoughts, your gaze dropping slightly before returning to his. What kind of things?
ââŚSometimesâ you admit, and then, because you can feel him watching you a little too intently, you add, âI do appreciate some femme company, though.â
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.
âHow long have you been teaching?â he asks, shifting the subject
You smile at him and cross your arms loosely as you lean against the table. âSince I graduated at twenty-two. Iâm twenty-four now.â
He nods, taking that in. âYou seem young to be a teacher.â
You lift a brow. âIs that a bad thing?â
âNo. Itâs⌠impressiveâ
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. âCan I see them again?â
âThe paintings?â
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 donât notice Seunghyunâs 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 doesnât shift much, only his gaze sharpening slightly as he absorbs the details.
Then, without looking away, he asks, âWhy did you choose art?â
You werenât 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?
ââŚBecause paintings take me somewhere elseâ you finally confess, but your voice is quieter now, and thoughtful. âSomewhere outside of hereâoutside of earth. Art is⌠otherworldly.â
Seunghyunâs eyes flicker toward you.
âWhen I look at certain pieces, I feel like I know myself better than I do in reality. Like thereâs something else inside of meâsomething unexplainable, that only comes out through color and shape.â
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 donât 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 âJoin us when youâre readyâ
You donât wait for an answer and Seunghyun doesnât 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 roomââFinally, sheâs back!â someone exclaims playfully. Another voice chimes in, âWe were starting to think you abandoned us.â
You laugh, shaking your head as you place a stack of sketchbooks onto one of the tables. âPlease. As if you could get rid of me.â
âThen where were you?â one of your students teases.
You lift a brow, tilting your head with mock curiosity. âDid I miss something? Are my whereabouts now a group concern?â
âYesâ someone pipes up from the back.
Laughter ripples through the room. You cross your arms, feigning deep contemplation. âHmm⌠should I tell you, or should I let the mystery last ⌠?â
âWe hate mysteryâ one of the younger students groans dramatically.
âThatâs not trueâ a young girl interjects. âSheâs a painter. Painters and women live for mystery.â
âAnd you all live to question mrâ you counter with a grin, tapping a brush against your palm. âFine. I wasââ
But before you can finish Seunghyun steps through the doorframe.
The studio doesnât 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 donât say anything outright. They know better.
After all, theyâve seen Su Bong visit you countless times, invading your space like he belonged there. But Seunghyun? Heâs different, heâs the brother that isnât 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 donât recognize him, or they simply donât care.
You donât draw attention to him, donât make any gestures that would single him out. He already looks like heâs 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 âBefore we dive inâ your voice is calm but loud enough to carry through the room, âI want to introduce todayâs focus. Itâs something I thought about early this morning, something that just felt right.â
You pause âExploring personal identity through portraiture.â
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.
âI donât just mean self-portraitsâ you clarify. âI mean something deeper than that. A portrait doesnât just capture a face, it captures an essence.â
You step forward, weaving your gaze through the space between them.
âWho are you when you paint yourself?â you ask softly.
The room stills.
âAre you who you think you are? Or are you something else? Something you donât even realize until itâs laid out in color and form?â
A slow breath in.
âThe way we see ourselves⌠itâs 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 didnât know was there.â
You let that linger, watching the way their expressions shift, not just in understanding, but in introspection.
Seunghyun hasnât moved. His hands rest lightly on the edge of the table, you can tell heâs listening.
You continue.
âTodayâs not about getting it right. Itâs not about perfection, or technique, or whether something looks the way you intended. Itâs about discovery. Itâs about asking yourself, who am I, and letting your hands answer before your mind does.â
A pause. Then, a gentle smile âLetâs begin.â
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 materialsâworn sketchbooks with pages curling at the edges, personalized brushes, palettes that have seen countless colors blended into something new. Others rely on the studioâs 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.
Thereâs something different about the way you teach. He had expected strict instructions, maybe a distant professionalism, but instead, thereâs warmthâreal, unrestrained warmth.
You joke lightly with an older woman about how sheâs claimed the same corner every week, tease a younger guy about how he always âforgetsâ 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 unseenâThen your voice cuts through his thoughts âSketchbook or canvas?â
He blinks, turning toward you. Youâre standing a step away, waiting expectantly with immersive patience
He considers. âCanvas.â
Without hesitation, you reach above for one from the stack, Seunghyun catches the scent of something delicateâsomething 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. Thereâs 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 doesnât want to understand the feeling thatâs settling in his chest.
You return to the center of the room, clapping your hands once âAll right, everyone! Before we dive into todayâs topic, letâs start with something to loosen up.â
A few students groan playfully, already anticipating some kind of challenge. You laugh âI promise, itâs easyâ you assure them. âWeâre going to start by finding the face withinâthat means no reference photos, no mirrors, no overthinking. Just your hand, your pencil, and whatever comes to the surface.â
Seunghyun raises a brow slightly. He watches as students grab their pencils, some already doodling absentmindedly on the edges of their sketchbooks.
âYou can close your eyes if it helpsâ you continue. âThink 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.â
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 doesnât quite know how to releaseâlike an instinct he canât unlearn.
The studio hums around him, filled with the gentle murmurs of students lost in their own worlds. Heâs 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 heâs supposed to make.
It unsettles him.
His mind doesnât wander to his own face at firstâhis instinct is to recreate something perfect, something precise, But that isnât the point of this exercise, is it?
âLet go of expectation.â Your voice drifts through the room, gentle but firm, guiding your students âLet the lines take shape before you understand them. Let the strokes reveal something you donât see yet.â
Seunghyun exhales slowly. He lets the pencil move.
The strokes start controlledâbut 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 isnât sketching blindly or with rushed, unpolished strokes. His lines are careful, like heâs still holding himself back.
You donât interrupt, but you tilt your head slightly, watching, then you smile, like you already know something he doesnât.
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 Bongâs 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 âMinji, youâre in charge. Donât let them bully youâ you tease.
Minji, a green-eyed girl in her early twenties, grins. âI am the bully.â
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.
âYAAAAH~!â Su Bongâs voice bursts through the speaker, so loud and so unnecessary that you immediately pull the phone away. âWhat you doing? You thinking about me yet? You missing me?â
You roll your eyes, unable to suppress the amused grin tugging at your lips. âI was thinking about how peaceful my day was before you called.â
âTch, This is why your love life is in shambles.â
âI have a love life?â
âEXACTLY!â he exclaims, laughing. âIâm about to file a complaint. You got a good man like me right here, calling you first thing in the morning, and you donât even appreciate it.â
You step out of the elevator, the scent of fresh coffee and warm pastries from the cafĂŠ next door guide you to the door.
âYouâre right. I shouldâve written you a thank you letter by nowâ The pastry shopâs bell jingles as you push the door open, moving toward the counter
âAt least!â
You chuckle âWith flowers and all?ââ
âAnd perfume. Make it all dramatic, like those historical K-dramas. âMy Dearest Su Bong, my heart beats but for theeâââ
You laugh, shaking your head as you glance at the menu. âYouâre ridiculous, you do know itâs past 12pm right?â
âAnd youâre too pretty to be this mean to me. Itâs unfair.â
The barista catches your eye, and you hold up two fingersâone coffee, one pastry. As you wait, you lean against the counter, balancing your phone between your ear and shoulder. âSo? Whatâs up, Su Bong? What do you need from me now?â
âLunch!â he declares. âYou, me, food, an hour. Letâs go.â
Your fingers drum against the counter. âI canât. Iâm teaching until late today.â
âTch, whatâs more important? The art of feeding yourself or whatever weird therapy session you got going on up there?â
You snort. âI can feed myself just fine, thanks.â
âMm. Debatable.â
You shake your head, accepting your coffee from the barista with a grateful nod. âLook, Iâll be busy all afternoon. But I can meet you for breakfast tomorrow.â
âBreakfast?â
âMm. First thing in the morning.â
âOooooh, a morning date. Youâre really into me, huh?â
You smirk. âIâm pitying you. Huge difference.â
âPitying me?!â Su Bong gasps, all mock offense. âIâll have you know, people would kill to have breakfast with me.â
âI am having breakfast with you.â
âEXACTLY.â
You roll your eyes, sipping your coffee as you walk back toward the studio. âOkay, I gotta goââ
âWait, waitââ
You pause mid-step. âWhat?â
Thereâs a beat of silence âKiss me through the phone.â
You burst out laughing, earning a few odd glances from passing pedestrians. âYou did not justââ
âI DID. Now do it. Muah. Your turn.â
You shake your head, barely containing your laughter. âBye, Su Bong.â
âWow, no love. No heart. No romance in this womanâs bones.â
âBye, Su Bong.â
âDonât forget our date, Miss Art Teacher.â
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. Thereâs 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. Thereâs 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. âHiâ
His gaze lingers on you for a moment before he speaks. âHi.â
You hesitate before asking, âHow do you like the class so far?â
He glances away briefly, as if considering, then exhales another slow breath. âItâs⌠welcoming.â His voice is low, careful. Then, after a pause, he adds, âYour voice is very soothing.â
Surprised, you blink at him. âWhat? Really?â
The corners of his lips twitch slightly. âYes.â
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, âI almost didnât come. Thought about sleeping in instead.â
You nod, understanding without needing further explanation. âYou were nervous.â
He doesnât 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 âI donât like the taste of cigarettesâ.
Seunghyun nods once, as if he expected that answer. He takes another drag, slower this time as he studies you. Thereâs something about the way you stand here, so at ease in the open air, itâs different from what heâs used to.
His thoughts flick briefly to Su Bong; reckless, brash, a storm in human form. And then thereâs you, softer but not fragile. He wonders how you ended up orbiting someone like that. But he doesnât ask.
Instead, you shift your weight slightly and gesture toward the door. âI should head back in.â
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. Heâs already put out his cigarette, deciding to head back in with you.
You offer a quiet, appreciative smile. âThanks.â
He doesnât 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.
âSoâ one of them murmurs, feigning innocence as she smooths out a napkin covered in charcoal dust. âHe got here before us today, huh?â
âAnd he left when you leftâ the other adds, voice conspiratorial but quiet enough that only you can hear.
You roll your eyes, unable to suppress a grin. âOh, come on.â
They both laugh under their breath, nudging each other like theyâve uncovered something scandalous.
âWeâre just sayingâ the first woman teases. âHe seems⌠invested.â
âYeah, in his artâ you counter, smirking. âWhich is what you should be focused on, by the way.â
They giggle, one of them raising her hands in surrender. âAlright, alright. Weâll stop.â
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 âAlright, letâs start putting our work awayâ you announce, clapping your hands together lightly. âWeâll pick up where we left off next time.â
Thereâs 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.
âWhoâs coming tomorrow?â you ask, leaning against a nearby table. A handful of hands shoot up immediately, while others exchange looks before shaking their heads.
âI wishâ someone sighs. âBut I have work.â
âSameâ another groans.
As you move to start tidying up stray brushes and palettes, something catches your attention: Seunghyun hasnât moved. While everyone else is packing away their work, heâs 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. âSee you.â
Seunghyun glances up briefly, returning the nod. âSee you.â
Once the last of the students trickle out, you step over to him, leaning slightly against the nearby table. âYouâre staying?â
He nods, dragging his paintbrush over the canvas. âI didnât finish.â
Something about it is⌠unusual. Youâve had students linger before, but Seunghyun doesnât strike you as the type to stay longer than necessary. Still, you donât question it too much.
âThatâs fineâ you say. âBut arenât you hungry? You can take a break and come back later if you want.â
Seunghyun shakes his head, eyes still on his work. âI donât eat much.â
You frown slightly at that, but before you can respond, he glances at you. âAre you hungry?â
The shift in subject is unexpected.
âIf you want to grab lunch, go aheadâ he continues. âIâll wait.â
Thereâs something strangely solemn about the way he says it, as if heâs already decided he wonât 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. âWell, I had coffee, so Iâm fine.â
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, âIs this how you paint, too?â
You pause slightly, glancing over your shoulder. âWhat do you mean?â
His gaze doesnât leave his paper. âTaught.â
You understand his meaning immediately.
âNoâ you answer simply. âThis is how I teach.â
He looks up, waiting for you to explain.
You step closer, brushing your hands off on a rag. âArt canât really be taughtâ you explain, voice softer now. âAt least, not in the way people think. Itâs 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.â You gesture slightly. âI donât mold it for them.â
Seunghyun watches you carefully, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Then, after a moment, he nods.
âThat makes senseâ he murmurs.
A few silent seconds pass before you tilt your head. âWhat about you? What inspired you to become an artist?â
For the first time since you started talking, Seunghyun hesitates. He exhales slowly, leaning back against the chair âA friendâ he replies. âA wise friend.â
Your brows lift slightly, intrigued. âThey taught you art?â
âThey taught me the psychology of itâ he clarifies. âHow to see beyond the surface. How to make something that doesnât just existâbut speaks.â
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.
âAh, good eveningâ he greets warmly, bowing his head slightly in your direction before shifting his attention to Seunghyun. His eyes gleam with curiosity. âAnd you must be new?â
Seunghyun, always one to recognize formalities, immediately stands from his seat and bows in return. âYes. My name is Choi Seunghyun.â His voice is composed, respectful, and oddly familiar in its politenessâsomething 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 detailsâwhere you worked, where the art studio was.
Mr. Kangjeon nods in approval at Seunghyunâs formality. âWelcome, young man.â
Without waiting for instructions, Mr. Kangjeon begins setting up his easel beside Seunghyun. You smile to yourself. Heâs been coming here long enough to know the routine, this class always starts with the students preparing their materials before you even introduce the eveningâs focus.
Seunghyun watches him in silence until Mr. Kangjeon, with the ease of someone who enjoys conversation, turns to him again.
âSo, what brings you here?â he asks, unfolding a canvas with practiced hands. âLooking for an escape, or something more?â
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, âSomething like that.â
Mr. Kangjeon chuckles knowingly. âArt has a way of giving people what they need, even when they donât know what theyâre looking for.â
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.
âI swear youâre doing this on purposeâ Se-mi teases, her arm casually slung around Min-suâs shoulders as they walk in together. âYou always pretend you donât hear me when I call your name.â
Min-su, the ever-soft, ever-shy but secretly hilarious 23-year-old, shakes his head, laughing. âI honestly didnât hear you. I was listening to music.â
âYou were ignoring meâ she accuses playfully, finally releasing him with an exaggerated sigh.
He grins. âIf I was ignoring you, I wouldnât be here right now.â
Their banter continues as they approach, both greeting you with bright smiles.
âHey, youâ Se-mi chimes, nudging your arm. âYou look great, as always.â
You smirk. âFlattery will get you nowhere, but keep going.â
She laughs, bumping you lightly. âSee, this is why I like you.â
âYou like me?â you tease. âI thought we were just tolerating each other at this point.â
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, sheâd looked him up. But didnât 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. Thereâs less stiffness, less hesitance. Everyone here is comfortable, familiar. They donât wait for instructions; they already know what theyâre 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. âAlright, everyone, you know the drill. Weâre picking up where we left off last time. No speeches from me today.â
A few playful cheers rise from the group, and someone sarcastically mumbles, âBest news Iâve heard all day.â
You shoot a pointed look in their direction, placing a hand over your heart in mock offense. âWow. That actually hurt.â
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 arenât just focused, theyâre relaxed, and that extends to you. The version of you heâs seeing now is looser, more playful, less of an instructor and more ofâŚa 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. âSo, is this your first time working with oil?â
Seunghyun shakes his head, wiping a bit of charcoal from his fingertips onto a rag. âNo, Iâve worked with it before.â
Mr. Kangjeon nods approvingly. âGood. That means I donât have to warn you about how unforgiving it can be.â
Seunghyun lets out a soft chuckle. âI already learned that the hard way.â
The older man grins. âThatâs the only way to learn.â
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. Thereâs 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 idlyâglances up again, eyes flicking toward Seunghyun. She still hasnât processed the fact that heâs 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 nameâMr. 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 âWhatâs up, Mr. Kangjeon?â
He eyes you for a moment before speaking, his expression warm. âYour outfitâ he finally says, gesturing at you with a flick of his paintbrush. âYou remind me of the women from my youthâelegant, classy.â He nods approvingly. âItâs rare to see nowadays.â
Your expression softens at the sincerity in his voice and a quiet chuckle escapes you. âYou flatter me, Mr. Kangjeon.â
âI only speak the truthâ he compliments, then leans slightly toward you, his voice dropping in a conspiratorial way. âI have something to show you.â
You follow his gaze to his canvas, and the moment your eyes land on it, your breath catches slightly.
âWow.â You blink, stepping closer. âThis is beautiful.â 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. Itâs striking, emotional, a reflection of its creatorâs wisdom and patience.
Mr. Kangjeon watches your reaction closely, thereâs a glint of anticipation in his eyes, heâs proud of his work, but more than that, he wants you to be proud of it, too. âWould you like to show it to the class?â
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 wasnât 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, itâs endearing.
âOf course I willâ you admit warmly, turning to Mr. Kangjeon with a nod. âLetâs show them what youâve done.â
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. âThank youâ 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. âAlright, everyone, gather around! We have a masterpiece to admire.â
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.
âDamn, Mr. Kangjeon, you really ate with this oneâ Se-mi teases, nudging Min-su, who chuckles softly beside her.
Mr. Kangjeon merely smiles, pleased but modest. âI had good inspiration.â
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 phoneâ8PM. 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. âNoona!â he calls, his tone dripping with playful betrayal. âSe-mi keeps messing with me again!â
Se-mi, leaning against the table with her arms crossed, smirks at him before glancing at you. âDonât listen to him. Heâs too easy to bully.â
You arch a brow, crossing your arms. âSe-mi, are you terrorizing Min-su again?â
âIâd neverâ she says, feigning innocence.
âLet him breatheâ you relent, nudging Se-mi.
She grins. âFine, Iâll be nice⌠but only because I have a very important invitation.â
You tilt your head in curiosity.
âBBQâ she announces, wiggling her brows. âYou in?â
Before you can even answer, Min-su perks up. âCan I come?â
Se-mi immediately turns to glare at him like he just crushed her master plan. âWhy are you like this?â
You laugh, shaking your head. âIf Min-suâs coming, so should Mr. Kangjeon.â
Mr. Kangjeon, who had been quietly amused by your exchange, chuckles. âIâll never turn down good food.â
Min-su nudges you lightly. âCan I ride with you? My brother dropped me off.â
âOf courseâ you reply, slipping your phone into your purse.
Mr. Kangjeon nods. âIâll meet you all there, I brought my own car.â
âSameâ 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 shoulderâSeunghyun approaches, his presence quieter than the others but no less noticeable. His gaze finds yours âThank youâ his voice is low but genuine. âFor letting me sign up last minute.â
You shake your head with a small smile. âYou donât have to thank me. Everyone is welcome, even if itâs last minute.â
A tinge of something crosses his features, something unexplainable yet warm. He lingers for a heartbeat before asking, âWould you mind giving me your number? Just so I can let you know if I wonât be coming to class.â he offers his phone with the dialing keypad open
Your lips twitch. âOh, so you think you can drop out now?â you tease as you reach for his phone
Seunghyun barely lifts a brow at you.
You tilt your head playfully. âOnce you signed your name on that paper, you signed a contract. No take-backs, no disappearing acts.â 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. âAhâ he exhales, amusement laced in his tone as he takes back his phone. âYou just donât want to let go of me now.â
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 âWhat?â he presses, tilting his head. âWas I right?â
You scoff before finally smiling, stepping toward the elevator. âSeunghyunâIf youâre done fishing for compliments, we should probably get goingâ
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, thereâs 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.
âYou have a good classâ he says suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice is smooth. âIt has a⌠rare essence to it.â
You glance at him, intrigued. âEssence?â
His gaze meets yours. âThe energy. The atmosphere.â A pause, then a slight tilt of his head. âBut maybe⌠itâs your essence that sets the mood.â
Something about the way he says it makes warmth creep up your neck again, but you donât let it show. Instead, you let out a small breath of amusement âIâll take that as a compliment.â
âIt isâ he affirms.
You nod in acknowledgment before changing the subject. âMr. Kangjeon is a kind man. Heâs been coming here for years. Even before i worked here, I hope youâll show up every Sunday evening and be good to him.â
Seunghyun admires you for a moment, the corner of his lips tugging slightly. âYou really care about your students.â
âTheyâre not just studentsâ you reply simply, softly. âTheyâre my friends. And Mr. Kangjeonâhe likes having people around. Especially younger ones, you must remind him of his sonâ
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 doesnât say anything. Instead, she lowers her gaze and casually taps out a message under a contact labeled âPotheadâ: âWeâre headed to BBQâ
Across from her, Min-su doesnât seem to notice, already moving toward you as you wave him over.
Se-mi pockets her phone, calling out, âDonât be late!â before heading off in her own direction.
You shake your head with a smile and turn to Min-su. âCome on, letâs go before Se-mi gives us hell.â
Once you and Min-su are in the car and buckled up, you glance over at him as you start the engine. âHowâs college?â
Min-su exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. âItâs⌠fine. I guess.â
âYou donât sound too convinced.â
He huffs a small laugh. âItâs justâgroup projects suck. I hate working in groups, but Iâm making an effort.â
You smile knowingly. âThatâs good. College is about suffering, anyway.â
Min-su groans. âDonât remind me.â
You chuckle as you pull onto the road, letting the conversation drift into easy chatter as the city lights blur past.
â˝âââââââââââââââĽ
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 âFinally. I was starting to think you got lost.â
Min-su rolls his eyes. âWe were literally right behind you.â
You shake your head with a laugh as you both take your seats.
Just then, the door swings open again.
Mr. Kangjeon steps insideâAnd 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 youâYou pointedly avoid looking at Se-mi, fully aware that if you meet her gaze, youâll see the unspoken Well, well, well written all over her face. And you know Seunghyun is perceptive, if you react too obviously, heâll 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 welcomingââHope Iâm not coming off as clingyâ he quips
You chuckle, leaning slightly toward him as you joke back, âA bit.â
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. âAlright, whoâs manning the grill?â she asks, raising an eyebrow at the group.
Min-su instantly raises his hands in surrender. âNot me. Iâll burn everything.â
âIâll do itâ Seunghyun offers casually, reaching for the tongs without hesitation. His movements seem quite natural, like this isnât 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.
âYouâre good at this, are you always the one who grills?â you ask curiously, your voice light with amusement
Seunghyun glances at you, a playful glint in his eyes. âMany times I am, you think I donât eat?â
You shake your head, a smile playing on your lips. âI just didnât expect you to actually knowâ
He exhales a short chuckle, turning the meat with an easy flick of the wrist. âThat makes two of us.â
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 doesnât know exactly what heâs walking into, just that Se-mi had texted him about you and some BBQ.
Whe he finally spots you, his stomach twists.
Youâre smiling; That coquettish, teasing smileâAt Seunghyun.
Su-bong stops in his tracks, eyes narrowing as he takes in the sight, his brotherâcoolly tending to the grill, while you lean in ever so slightly, clearly entertained by whatever nonsense heâs 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, youâre met with Su-bongâs sharp gaze.
Seunghyun follows your line of sight and spots his younger brother approaching. He doesnât need to be a mind reader to know exactly whatâs running through Su-bongâs 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 didnât 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. âWow. My friends, huh?â He tilts his head. âNo text? No invite?â
You roll your eyes at his dramatics. âDidnât know you needed one.â
The table laughs, and for a second, it seems like the tension might dissolve, until Su-bong abruptly gestures at Min-su. âMove over.â
Min-su blinks. âWhat?â
âGet up. Give me your seat.â
You click your tongue, shaking your head. âHey, bully. Leave Min-su alone.â You nod toward the empty seat across from you. âSit there.â
Su-bong hesitates, but your firm look makes it clear youâre 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, doesnât say anything at first. Then, as he casually flips another piece of meat, he finally speaks âDidnât know you were joining us.â
Su-bong leans back, arms draping over the chair. âDidnât you hear? I donât needed an invitation.â His eyes flick to you againâexpecting something, waiting for you to say something.
You glance at Su-bong, sensing something off in his demeanor. Heâs botheredâbut why? You donât quite understand, so you offer him a small, reassuring look, as if to silently ask, Whatâs 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. âWait a minuteââ He gestures between the two brothers. âYou two are twins?â
Min-su, without missing a beat, grins. âSeunghyunâs the better-looking one.â
Su-bongâs 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. âWho was born first?â
Before Su-bong can answer, Seunghyun casually flips a piece of meat and deadpans, âWe were born at the same time. Holding hands.â
The table erupts in laughter at the sheer absurdity of it. Even Se-mi laughs, shaking her head
Su-bong, however, doesnât even crack a smile. He picks up a freshly grilled piece of meat, casually dropping it onto his plate before answering, âHeâs ten minutes older.â
You blink in surprise, turning to Seunghyun with amusement. âReally?!â
Su-bongâs chopsticks pause midair. He scoffs, eyeing you with mild exasperation. âHey! I said it. Why are you looking at him?â
You and Seunghyun both turn to Su-bong at the exact same time.
Se-mi chuckles, shaking her head. âYouâre twins. Youâre basically the same age. Nobody can be older.â
Min-su grins cheekily. âSu-bong acts like the younger one, though.â
Su-bong clicks his tongue, his gaze narrowing playfully at the younger one. âHey, you little prickâ he mutters, but thereâs no real malice behind it âSeunghyun, why donât you cut your little brotherâs pork bellyâ
Seunghyun glances up from the grill âI donât think Min-suâs gonna need me to babysit himâ His hand reaches across to grab a piece of grilled meat from your plate with casual manner âIâll help him finish his food thoâ
You raise an eyebrow âHey! thatâs my food youâre stealing, not his.â
Su-bongâs eyes flick between you and Seunghyun, he canât 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 itâs positioned just right.
You look up, meeting Su-bongâs 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.
âThank you suâ you subtly thank him, he had to know you noticed
Su-bongâs lips curl up in the slightest smirk, but thereâs 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. âMmm, this tastes so goodâ she hums with a playful grin. âHonestly, Iâve never had it taste this amazing. Must be because of who cooked it, youâre a cook Hyungâ
Seunghyun nods with a friendly smile âThank youâ 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-bongâs eyes flick toward Seunghyun before he casually asks, âSo, how did you end up having BBQ with Miss.Arte ?â
Seunghyun, ever the smartass, leans forward, a playful grin tugging at his lips as he replies, âWell, Se-mi, Min-su, and Mr. Kangjeon are also here.â
The table giggles, the humor easing any underlying tension. Su-bong tries to maintain his patience, but itâs clear the remark hit a nerve. He doesnât show it much, though.
You smile and glance at Seunghyun, finally answering, âWell⌠Seunghyun signed up for the afternoon classââ
Se-miâs eyes widen with curiosity. âOh! Wow, he was there all day?!â
The realization hits Su-bong like a joltâSeunghyun was really there all day? He fights the surge of jealousy, but itâs hard to ignore.
Seunghyun speaks again, his tone casual, though thereâs a warmth to it. âAlmost. But itâs a very soothing space, thanks to herâ he gestures toward you, âSo I really liked it.â
Su-bongâs eyes narrow, and he sips from a freshly opened soju bottle, which unintentionally leaves Se-mi without a bottle of her own. He doesnât miss the chance to remark, âItâs never really that fun, itâs just⌠art.â
You gasp in feigned offense, the corners of your lips curling into a playful smile. âWhat? Just art?â you ask, half-shocked.
Before you can say anything else Seunghyun cuts in, âPerhaps we have different views and interests. I love art.â
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. âThank you for the complimentââSeunghyun mirrors your gesture, bowing back with a charming smile.
At this point, Mr. Kangjeon, whoâs been quietly watching the back-and-forth, chuckles and pipes in, âIâve never met a more perfect combo between a student and their teacher than you two.â
Su-bongâs glares at the old man, but of course, Mr. Kangjeon doesnât 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. âTo⌠longer days at the art institute âŚâ
Everyone picks up their bottles in response, but Min-su, in his casual way, grabs yours instead of his ownâcompletely unintentional.
Seunghyun, noticing the mix-up, immediately offers, âIâll call the server for another bottle for youââ
You shake your head, a light smile playing on your lips. âItâs fine, really. Iâm not in the mood to drink much, just a bit in a shot glass.â
Su-bong, still eyeing the exchange between you and Seunghyun, canât quite hide his surprise at your refusal. He watches you for a moment longer, then takes another sip from his own bottle, convinced youâre 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 youâve picked up from the table. The glass is delicate, a stark contrast to the deep, rich sojuâSu-bongâs gaze flickers between the two of you again, his jealousy flaring.
Se-mi, with a small giggle, announces the toast. âTo longer days at the art institute leading to art galleries for all!â
Everyone raises their bottlesâyou 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-bongâs glare sharpens. Itâs clear from his expression that heâs not quite as amused as the others.
Mr. Kangjeon, ever the curious one, looks at Seunghyun with a smile. âSo, Seunghyun, are you seeing anyone? Iâve got a daughter, you know. Iâd be happy to introduce you.â
Seunghyun, with a polite but amused smile, subtly responds, âOh, Iâm actually seeing someone at the momentââ the same response he have the lady from the museum a day ago
Min-su, whoâs been listening intently, seizes the opportunity to tease. âWell, Su-bong here is single, though.â
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. âSu-bong, youâve got some serious expertise in making women runâand not look back.â
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. âHow about you? Are you seeing anyone? I also have a son whoâs around your age.â
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, âSheâs too good to fall for anyone. All men are dogs.â he repeats your often used phrased
A light laugh escapes you at Min-suâs remark, but before you can say anything, Min-su continues with his teasing. âMaybe you should ask Se-mi insteadâ he jokes
Se-mi glares at him, but Su-bong, sensing an opening, jumps in with his own playful jab. âSe-miâs luck in dating is pretty bad. Her last partner was just like a microwave⌠hot, easy, quickâand a bunch of leftovers.â
The entire table erupts into laughter, with Se-mi nearly choking on her drink, you chuckle at Su bongs sharp edged humor.
Seunghyun, whoâs been watching you throughout, smiles softly, he thinks about how you make even lewd jokes sound classy.
Before you can notice, Su-bong does âThis is really getting annoyingâ he blurts out absentmindedly while reaching for another piece of meat from the grill, not realizing that itâs 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.
â˝âââââââââââââââĽ
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, âIâll take you home.â
You pause for a moment, turning your head to reply with a smile. âI came in my car, good bye Su-bongâ you try to make it sound light-hearted, though a small part of you feels a bit flattered.
Su-bong isnât having it. He strides up to you, his hand reaching up to tug on your braid, his grin widening. âLetâs put my motorcycle in your carââ
You chuckle, ducking away from his hand with a playful swat. âGo home, Su-bong. Goodbyeâ you reply firmly but with an amused glint in your eyes.
He chuckles, a smile lingering, but doesnât 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 âThanks for the lovely dayâ
You return the smile, a little surprised by the warmth of his words. âOf course. Drive home safelyâ you encourage him lightly, youâre 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 ŕžŕ˝˛ŕžŕ˝˛ŕžŕ˝˛ŕžŕ˝˛ŕžŕ˝˛ i am the proudest to say iâm 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 đ thank you for reading and for the support if you made it this far mwaaaah âšđš i apologize for any typos đˇ ps chapter 3 up tomorrow !
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