(KWB)

The red, luscious strôkes on the canvas flaunts its presence against a dark, gritty background, forcibly pulling my eyes to it against my will. The afternoon sun with its bright light shines strongly onto the centre of the painting, cruelly ensuring that I do not forget the incomplete section. Frustrated, I throw the paintbrush down, sending it rolling away on the floor. The anger I have with myself eats me as I stare hopelessly at the painting before me. Without much surprise, I am once again crushed by absolute defeat.

Many months of hard work and the painting is long near completion. I have retouched the background over and over again, not to alter anything but simply to ignore the red in the centre. Against the backdrop of confusing black and indigo, the red, full lips stake its haughty place in the middle of messy chaos. It dares me, and mocks me, or it's just softly luring me into a world I should run from. What is only lacking in this painting, is a tiny, barely visible dot on the red lips - the left upper lip. I tweaked the background a little too often, buying time as I refuse to put the final touch on the main object.

"Woo Bin-ssi, is this a guestroom?" She had pointed to the locked studio on her first visit to my place. It probably was a little odd to her. After all, I only have one room, and my bed is relegated to a corner of the hall. "Why aren't you using this as your bedroom?"

"... that's where I pretend to be an artist," I lowered my already low voice to answer her, hoping she would not get too curious over the room.

"Artist? You paint?"

"Not really, just dabbling when I'm free. The paints can smell so that's the best place for it," I said, while staying put where I was. Maybe she would focus her attention somewhere else if I did not go near the room. "This place has a big hall so I make do with an open concept bedroom."

She nodded slowly in hesitant agreement. For a single bachelor it was probably not a problem.

"I didn't know you paint," she said with a curious smile. "Can I take a look at your work?"

It was obviously rude to turn her down but that request was not something I could agree to. An easy explanation did the trick - they were not good enough. Surprisingly she did not press on. Maybe she's trying not to be pushy. Maybe the few months we casually dated were not enough to make her stake her right as a girlfriend.

Whatever the reasons, I was grateful that she did not insist to see them. Those were times when Mi Na didn't even know that she had spared me from situations I did not want to face.

Just like that day when he was here.

If she had not made a surprise visit when her shoot was canceled, I really don't know what could have happened. There he was, looking pale and gaunt, trying hard to be cheerful yet wasn't biting onto the piece of toast I subtly pushed to him every time. What was in his mind? Something's not right with him but I couldn't tell what it was. He was not saying either. I was worried. He was making me insanely worried inside though I tried not to show how overly concerned I was. I wanted to grab him on his shoulders and demand an answer. I wanted to know what's bothering him. He used to share all his worries with me, why wouldn't he now? I was seconds away from venting my frustration with my inability to reach him. Mi Na had knocked on the door at the right time and I managed to steer myself from a dangerous situation. I have no confidence to what I could have done if she had not shown up. I hurried him back even when he was looking sickly. After he left, she asked to take a peek at my studio. That was the second time she asked. I rejected her again even though she unknowingly helped me once more - I was that close to exposing myself if not for her. But the studio is not a room for anyone to see. Not my girlfriend, not my parents, not him. Definitely not him.

He did ask to see the paintings before. He tried many times. He had asked and begged. He teased and he taunted. He even used his Taekwondo skills and locked me on the floor a few times. Persistency is his trait but for this he will never win. He can never win. This place stores my unspeakable secret, a secret that no one should know, especially him. Within this locked door, I struggle with thoughts that should never be. Within this locked door, I face the Kim Woo Bin that no one knows. No one should see these paintings, especially the person in them. No one, absolutely no one, should know the horrible truth of my feelings.

I heave one of the many sighs in here, and pick up another brush. Dipping a holy white, I quickly paint on a small window with a single cross grid in it. The window hovers in a far distance in the painting, but at the unmissable and distinct top right corner. Maybe the heavy background is too dark, for the white window is so bright it hurts my eyes. I try to tone it down. Still, it is too harsh.

My eyes fall back on the sinful lips in the centre and I wonder if I should temper it with a little orange. It will be a less threatening tone.

Yet a voice jeers at me... it cruelly laughs at me from deep within myself. Changing the colour of the lips will not change anything. I would remain completely guilty, no matter how much I try to cover myself. Just who am I fooling... everyone? Myself? For how long?

I sit on the stool facing the painting, face buried in my hands. My mind has thousands of thoughts, yet oddly at the same time it feels completely blank.

The room slowly turns from bright to dark, the late afternoon sun setting without any pity on me. It is the sharp ringing of the phone that brings me back from my thoughts. I dish it out from my pocket with my paint-smeared hand.

"Yes, Aboeji.... I'm doing fine.... yes, I'll make a trip home soon... with her? She's busy filming.... what? That's too early, we just.... I want to concentrate on my career first.... Aboeji, let's talk about this another time, alright? We've just started seeing each other.... yes, she's a great girl... I'll bring her home when the time is right. Yes, I will... ok, remember to put on some extra clothes, it's getting cooler already. Tell Eomma I miss her."

Family - it has always been the most important thing to me. Aboeji and Eomma don't ask a lot from me. They've always been proud of their son and always been supportive. Whether I aspired to be a model or later chose to act, they have always trusted in me. Their Hyung Joon is a dependable son, mature and wise for his age, sharing a strong faith as them. But as Kim Woo Bin, I am now struggling to stay the same son they know. The son they are both so proud of.

They are keen to see me settle down with a nice girl. In a way, they've never really trusted the environment I'm in. When they knew I was seeing Mi Na, they wanted to meet her as soon as possible. I know what they are thinking. If I am to marry someone in the entertainment industry, they want to make sure she is the right person for me. They have read enough bad stories about this line in the tabloids. However, it is also their wish that I settle down soon. If she is a nice and decent girl there's no reason for them to see me date a hundred years. There are things an eldest son eventually has to fulfill and I will not be able to ignore their wishes forever. As the responsible son they love, how could I tell them she is not the person in my heart? Could I, their only son, bear to hurt them beyond anything they've ever imagined by revealing the truth? Could I, the son they are so proud of, choose a path that is horrifyingly wrong for their belief?

A bitter, thin laugh escapes as I lift up the brush again. So what if I identify the lips? It is not something I would dare to touch. It is not something I will ever dare to own.

I don't even know how I landed myself in such a predicament. I am a normal man, and pride myself in traditional values. Then one day, something just changed. Was it the eyes? Or the smile? Was it how we could share everything or was it because we had gone through thick and thin together? It doesn't really matter anymore. What matters is I am fighting a tough battle to keep my sanity. I have to be constantly on guard and I don't know when I'll suddenly lose it. If this is a sickness, will it be terminal? It probably is some kind of phase... maybe I had devoted too much emotions into that drama, and wasn't able to get out from it. But it's been a while, and till now every time I close my eyes all I can see are those eyes, and that pair of lips... I can't stop myself from caring about that person and I can't stop myself from wanting to protect him.

The thinnest brush puts the finishing touch to the lips as I place the barely visible dot on the left side of the upper lip. Another completed painting, that no one else except the painter will see.

As I thought I can finally put away the painting, a silhouette appears by the doorway in front of me.

It is too late. The door is not locked.      

 "

(tbc...)