#wayvau

The art studio was supposed to be a peaceful, creative space. At least, that’s what the owner had told you when you and Ten arrived for your painting date. The dim lighting, soft jazz playing in the background, and the faint scent of acrylics in the air all set the perfect atmosphere. But, of course, with Ten involved, things were bound to go off track.

At first, everything was going well. He was focused on his canvas, lost in thought, his brush gliding effortlessly across the surface. You were trying your best to keep up, though your strokes weren’t nearly as fluid.

“Are you even painting, or are you just admiring me?” Ten asked without looking up, a teasing lilt in his voice.

You scoffed. “Excuse me, I am deeply immersed in my work.”

He leaned over to peek at your canvas. “Oh. Wow. That’s… something.”

“Hey!” You nudged him with your elbow, making him laugh.

That was your first mistake. Because when Ten laughed, his playful side took over. Before you could react, he swiped his paintbrush against your arm, leaving a streak of bright blue on your skin.

Your jaw dropped. “You did not just—”

“Oh, I did.” He grinned, holding the brush like a weapon. “And I’d do it again.”

Challenge accepted. You grabbed your own brush, dipped it into a random color—red, for dramatic effect—and swiped it across his cheek.

Ten gasped like you had personally betrayed him. “Oh, it’s on now.”

The next few minutes were absolute chaos. Brushes were abandoned as the battle escalated. You dipped your fingers in paint and smudged them across his forehead. He retaliated by grabbing a handful of paint and smearing it across your jaw. At some point, he even left a green handprint on your shirt. Laughter echoed through the studio as both of you tried to dodge and attack at the same time.

By the end of it, Ten looked like a walking abstract painting—streaks of red, blue, and yellow covering his arms, face, and clothes. You were no better, your hair probably stained in multiple places.

Panting slightly, Ten glanced at your ruined clothes, then at himself, and then at the mess you had made. The poor canvases were long forgotten. “You think we’re banned?” he asked, grinning.

You laughed, wiping some yellow paint from his chin—only to smudge it further. “I think we should leave before they kick us out.”

“Agreed.” He took your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, not even caring about the paint transferring between you. “But you have to admit… this was the best date ever.”

You shook your head, smiling. “Only because you’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” he said, winking.

The air was thick with tension, the kind that settled between two people when too much had been said—and yet, not enough. You stood across from WinWin in the dimly lit practice room, arms wrapped around yourself as if the pressure of your own hold could keep you from shattering completely.

He wouldn’t look at you. His eyes were glued to the floor, fingers clenched into fists by his sides. You could see the rise and fall of his chest, the weight of unspoken words pressing against his ribs.

"You hate me. I get it."

Your breath hitched. "No, WinWin, I—"

You wanted to deny it, to tell him he was wrong, but the words tangled in your throat. How could you? After everything that happened, after all the things you left unsaid, all the times you pushed him away when all he did was try to reach you?

WinWin let out a hollow chuckle, finally lifting his gaze to meet yours. His eyes weren’t angry—they were tired. Worn out from the endless cycle of misunderstandings and unspoken feelings.

"No, it's fine," he said, voice quiet but firm. "I hate me too. It’s something we can have in common."

Your heart cracked at the way he said it, like he had long since accepted that he was impossible to love. Like he truly believed he wasn’t worth fighting for.

"That’s not true," you whispered.

He tilted his head slightly, an almost amused look crossing his features. "Then why do you always pull away?"

You swallowed hard. "Because… I'm scared."

WinWin didn’t move for a moment, but you could see the way his expression softened, just barely. He sighed, running a hand through his hair before looking at you again. "Scared of what?"

"Of ruining you. Of ruining us."

It was selfish, really. You had spent so much time convincing yourself that you were the problem, that staying away from him was for the best. That if you let yourself love him the way you wanted to, you’d only bring him down.

But now, looking at him, seeing the way he held himself together like he was afraid of breaking apart, you realized—

You had already hurt him by keeping your distance.

WinWin took a careful step toward you. "You don’t get to decide that for me."

You blinked, breath catching.

"If you hate yourself, then fine," he murmured. "But don’t use that as an excuse to push me away."

Tears stung the corners of your eyes as his words sank in. You had been so caught up in your own fears that you hadn’t even noticed how much it affected him. How much he had been hurting, too.

Slowly, hesitantly, you reached out. Your fingers brushed against his, and for a moment, he didn’t move. Then, ever so gently, he closed the distance between you, his hand warm against yours.

"You don’t have to go through this alone," he said softly.

You took a deep breath, standing outside your family’s house with Ten practically glued to your side. He had his arm wrapped around yours, fingers loosely intertwined with yours, and his head resting dramatically on your shoulder.

"Do we have to go in?" he whined playfully, squeezing your hand. "What if they don’t like me? What if they think I’m weird?"

You turned to face him, gently flicking his forehead. "First of all, they will like you. Second, you are weird."

Ten gasped, clutching his chest as if you had just mortally wounded him. "Excuse me?! You love my weirdness!"

You laughed, nudging him toward the door. "I do. But come on, my mom is already watching us from the window."

Ten straightened up immediately, but his hand remained tightly around yours. As soon as you stepped inside, your mom was already there, greeting you both with a warm smile.

"You must be Ten!" she said, pulling him into a hug before he could react.

Ten’s eyes widened, but he immediately melted into the embrace. "Oh, I like your mom already," he whispered, making you chuckle.

Your dad stood behind her, eyeing Ten with a raised brow. "So, you’re the famous boyfriend."

"That’s me!" Ten said proudly, squeezing your hand for comfort. "Y/N talks about me all the time, huh?" He shot you a teasing look, and you rolled your eyes.

Your younger sibling popped up from behind your dad. "Do you really dance better than Y/N?"

Ten let out an exaggerated gasp. "Better? Y/N, how dare they question my superiority!" He clung to you dramatically, hiding behind you like a scared kitten.

Your mom laughed, clearly already falling for his antics. "Come on, let’s eat before Ten permanently fuses himself to Y/N’s side."

At the dinner table, Ten was an absolute sweetheart—helping serve food, listening intently to stories about your childhood, and sneaking little glances at you like he was already planning to brag about tonight later.

At one point, your dad cleared his throat. "So, Ten. What exactly are your intentions with my child?"

You tensed, but Ten, still holding onto your sleeve, simply pouted. "Intentions? To keep them forever, obviously."

Your sibling snorted, and your mom bit back a smile, but your dad raised an eyebrow. "Forever, huh?"

Ten nodded enthusiastically. "Of course! Y/N is my favorite person in the world." Then, as if realizing how much he was confessing, he turned to you and whined, "Y/N, your dad is scary! Protect me!"

Your dad sighed, shaking his head. "Fine, I approve. But only because you’re the first person to make Y/N bring home someone this entertaining."

Ten beamed, resting his head against your shoulder again. "See? I knew they’d like me."

You groaned, but deep down, you were relieved. As clingy as he was, he had your family wrapped around his finger already.

Later, as you walked Ten to the door, he suddenly wrapped you in a tight hug, burying his face in your neck. "Your family is nice," he mumbled. "But I missed having you all to myself."

You laughed, running your fingers through his hair. "You were literally attached to me all night."

"Not enough," he grumbled. "Now, come on, say you love me before I leave, or I’ll refuse to let go."

You rolled your eyes but leaned in, whispering, "I love you, clingy baby."

Ten grinned against your skin. "I knew it. You love my weirdness!"