It was too embarrassing to say oppa out loud. Especially to someone you looked up to. You knew that a lot of female fans (even foreign ones) would use oppa to refer to their idols. But you were not used to it. There was only one person you had called oppa before. Back in high school, you became friends with your neighbor who was several years older than you. It was only natural that you called him oppa. He was the one who made you practice the piano after being so invested in drawing and painting. You thought about that person and how long it had been since you talked to him.

And so what occurred was calling Seung Hyun with mister whenever at work and when you were alone together, you would avoid calling him by his name altogether. Even though he had gotten more comfortable interacting with you, a part of you was still unbelieving of your situation. You had declared yourselves as friends but it was taking too long for your brain to process this fact.

It was a lazy Saturday afternoon. The mild air was comforting as you enjoyed it with Seung Hyun, Hong Il, and Chris in a café. You just spent the morning sightseeing around the city. Chris was telling about his trip in the Italian countryside a few months ago. Seung Hyun was actively chatting with him since they were talking about wine and vineyards. That man surely loved his wine. You listened to their conversation while finishing your slice of strawberry cake. And that was when your phone rang. Looking at your screen, you saw your friend’s name and you instantly answered it—a wide smile appearing on your face.

“Oppa!” You exclaimed and the three men all turned their attention to you—as if you had called one of them out loud. Flushing in sudden embarrassment, you bowed your head and stood up from the table to move to an empty table a few feet away from them.

“How have you been, Y/N-ah? You suddenly contacted me after so long.” A warm voice spoke from the other line and you imagined Park Ji Ho’s smile.

“I’ve been busy and then I suddenly missed you so…”

“So you randomly sent a bear hugging a bunny emoji out of nowhere?” You heard his laugh and you couldn’t help but smile.

“How are you, oppa?”

“I’m doing well. I work in a small entertainment company now—trying to produce songs.” Your heart picked up.

“That’s great! Have you released anything?” You knew his passion was music. He was the one who brought you out of your comfort zone to try something new and how much you felt at home in music as well. You remembered the times you spent inside his house—playing the piano together as he composed songs and you sang for him.

“Soon, peanut.” He had that pet name for you since you were obsessed with peanuts before when you thought it would help your brain to learn more. You had such hunger for learning it was crazy.

You asked him how his family was doing and if he was still staying in their house. He told you that he had moved out a year ago and was living in Mapo-gu. And he asked about your parents and their travels. You spent the next fifteen minutes catching up until you realized that the three men you were with were already done with their coffees and cakes.

“I have to go now. Let’s talk again soon, okay?”

“Come visit me soon!” he pleaded and you laughed.

“I will. Maybe this year. Do you want me to bring anything?”

“Just bring yourself. That’s enough for me.” He teased and you had the audacity to blush.

“Still a smooth talker, eh? Bye now, oppa. Take care of yourself.”

“Same to you, peanut.”

And you ended the call. Walking back to your group, you noticed that Hong Il was staring at you curiously.

“Oppa?” He asked incredulously and you simply nodded.

“I thought you were calling one of us earlier. I was so surprised.” Chris chuckled and you grinned sheepishly at him.

“Who’s the oppa?” Hong Il prodded and you noticed how Seung Hyun shot him a look.

“A person dear to me.” You scrunched your nose at Hong Il. He was being too nosy. “So where are we off to next?”

And they all gave different answers.

“To the market.”

“I want to sleep.”

“Wallraf-Richartz.”

You looked at the three of them and it was Hong Il who sighed heavily as he turned to Seung Hyun. “Can I pass the museum visit?”

Seung Hyun’s lips turned into a straight line. “You always abandon me whenever I go to my sanctuaries.”

“You prefer to be alone!” Hong Il chuckled and then he looked at you. “Or you can go with Y/N. Your last art escapade went well, right?”

You had no idea if Hong Il had something up his sleeves. The guy could be quite cunning if he wanted to. Maybe that was the reason why he was able to manage Seung Hyun successfully. He stood up and patted Chris on the shoulder. “I’ll go with you first. I also have to buy some fruits in the market.”

“Ok.” Chris replied as he stood up as well and looked at you and Seung Hyun. “See you guys on Monday. Enjoy the rest of your weekend.”

The two buddies walked off and you were left with Seung Hyun who was still finishing his cigarette. You didn’t like smoking but you had no say about what he was doing with his life. Clearing his throat, he stubbed the cigarette on the ashtray and threw it in the trashcan nearby. You followed him as he started walking. The museum was quite far but still a walking distance from where you were.

“You’ve visited Wallraf-Richartz before, right? Why would you want to come back?” You asked as you were walking side by side.

“I changed my mind. I’d like to go somewhere else.”

“Where would you like to go?”

He glanced down at you and he seemed quite unsure when he said, “I’d like to see your works if you don’t mind.”

“Eh? Why?” The confusion in your voice made the corners of his lips pull up into a tiny smile.

“I briefly saw a painting of yours when Hong Il-hyung and I took you to your apartment.” He cleared his throat again. “It was dark so I didn’t get to really see.”

You remembered telling him that you were into painting and drawing. And you thought that would be the last of it since you haven’t held a brush in months. But a voice in your head was telling you to let Seung Hyun see what your first passion was—to know his thoughts on art—especially yours… though you were terrified he would not like what you made.

“I didn’t think you’d be interested in my art.” You said quietly and he kind of gave you that half-surprised half-judging look.

“Art is subjective.” His response didn’t appease the self-consciousness that was starting to creep back in your system.

He must’ve noticed the sudden glum look on your face because his own expression softened. “I’d love to see your works, Y/N-ah… Can you show me, please?”

“Are you using aegyo on me?” You noted the cutesy tone that he used when he said please.

“I don’t have any aegyo.” He said with a straight face but his voice was squeaky as if trying to sound cute. You smiled at his ridiculousness.

“Fine.” You huffed. “But we need to take a taxi.”

It took around fifteen minutes when you arrived in your apartment building. It was the middle of afternoon and people were simply lazing around during weekends. Seung Hyun quietly followed you to your unit and you were quiet as well when you opened your door.

“There are so many.” He remarked as his eyes wandered around and you locked the door behind you. “You made all these?”

“Yes.” You simply said as you watched his eyes roam around the room. He started walking—moving from one painting to another. The walls inside your studio apartment were adorned with paintings and drawings you had made through the years. Your apartment was spacious because you preferred to spend your money on your art supplies instead of buying furniture. Right beside the main door was the kitchen and your small dining table. Right after it was your combined bedroom, living room, and study area. Your queen size bed was next to your desk with your computer and cups filled with graphite pencils and stacks of paper. And on the wall parallel to your bed was your old piano your father had bought for you. And on the other side of the room was your bathroom and studio.

Seung Hyun moved from one piece to another. He didn’t say a word and you preferred not to speak unless he would ask a question. You followed him around the room until he stopped in front of the open door to your studio. You nodded at him to go inside. Your old but sturdy easel was empty—looking quite lonely in one corner of the room. And there were small shelves completely used for your brushes, paints, and various art materials. The tall windows brought the natural light and air needed inside the room. Seung Hyun gently touched the old brushes which were collecting dust.

“This is supposed to be my bedroom but I made it my studio instead.”

“You like figurative art.” He stated the obvious and you quietly chuckled.

“I like human figures and faces. I get satisfaction in mirroring emotions in the canvas. I also like sceneries.” You explained.

“I prefer the abstract…” he paused. “But I understand what you mean with emotions. I like how varied your works are.”

“I’ve been trying to find my own style for years but it got too frustrating.”

“Is that the reason why you haven’t done anything in a while?” His question was so sudden that no words escaped your mouth for a few moments.

“I lost motivation.” You paused as you stared at a painting of a self-portrait that you did a few years back. You remembered that time you took a picture of your back with your hands holding your hair. “You know that feeling when you work so hard to perfect something and then you don’t realize that time is gradually all the energy in you? And then you wake up feeling as if your whole being is empty and you suddenly hate everything around you?”

Seung Hyun had been looking at you the entire time and when you turned your head to meet his gaze, you felt as if something hard hit your chest. His eyes were mellow and with a slight nod, he didn’t need any words to respond to you. Feeling incredibly vulnerable under his soft gaze, you felt a sudden lump in your throat as you tried to continue.

“I’ve always been into art when I was young. My parents encouraged me a lot in my interests. I spent half of my free time studying a language and the other in drawing and painting. These were the things all I could think about growing up. And just like that, it’s as if all the years I dedicated to art suddenly meant nothing when I couldn’t find myse