That next evening you opened the closet door to see a note on the inside again. You frowned at the directions and afterwards sighed. Why couldn’t Mr. Kwon direct you to go clean the guitar room or something? At least then Joshua’s presence would be so much more pleasant. Jun was the last person, before Wonwoo, that you wanted to see.

You walked down the hallway and were reminded of the first time you saw all the beautiful canvases on the wall. Now that you knew Jun was a painter, it all made sense why these photos were displayed so aesthetically.

You approached his paint room with a rolling cart that you had taken out from a janitor closet nearby. The cart contained spray bottles, towels, a mop and a broom. On the side of the cart was a small bucket already filled with soap and water.

When you unlocked the door and looked in, Jun was nowhere to be found. Not even his paints were the way you had seen it before. All his canvases, some half painted, others almost done were stacked nicely on easels against the large windows. Beside them were stools and a few chairs that were grouped into the corner. You pushed the door fully open and began to drag your cleaning cart inside. However, you were stopped when a wheel caught on the edge of the door.

Before you could pull the cart free, Jun showed up and helped you maneuver it inside.

“How did you get here so fast?” you asked sarcastically. You were hoping he would never show up, yet there he was dressed in his fine uniform.

“I was in the next room sorting my paint,” Jun replied while adjusting some paint tubes and brushes in his hand.

“That’s weird; I was expecting a smart comment. What a change,”

Surprisingly, Jun didn’t reply to your remark making you wonder if you should have just kept your mouth shut. You stared at him while he shuffled his way in and over to the corner. You watched him pull out a stool and drag over an easel that had a blank canvas.

He made himself comfortable then looked over at you and stated, “You are the only girl who stares at me for that long. Usually girls don’t have enough courage to look at me. You know, because I’m so handsome,”

Your eyebrows furrowed in response to his conceited comment. Before you could think of something to say he added, “You should take a photo of me so you can look at me whenever,”

“Jun, get out of your head and into the real world please. No one thinks you’re handsome,” you replied.

Jun shrugged, “That’s usually how it works. Denial comes first,”

You witnessed him wink at you with a smile as if he knew some secret of yours that you yourself didn’t know. Oh why did you for a second ever think that he wasn’t going to say something smart??

“Oh my god…kill me now,” you whispered as you looked away from him. This evening was going to be torture. You just knew it!

“Diluted shellac is in the other room if you really want to die,”

Could Jun be any more annoying?? You pulled the cart further into the room, grabbed the broom and closed the door to begin sweeping. You were determined to NOT respond to Jun by keeping yourself busy.

“Can you get me my paintbrush?” Jun asked.

“No,”

“But I can’t reach it,”

You turned around to see him with no effort at all reaching for the brushes he set beside him. You rolled your eyes and ignored his request.

“Would you like to paint with me?” Jun asked a few minutes later from behind you.

You didn’t bother to look at him. Nevertheless, you stopped sweeping and exhaled all the irritation out of your lungs before you replied, “No. No thank you,”

“But I went through all this effort to set an easel up for you,” Jun responded, and you turned around to see that the only thing that had changed from earlier was an extra stool beside him.

“I have to clean.”

“I already cleaned the room, you should have come thirty minutes earlier if you wanted to use that excuse,”

You turned away from Jun and made a face out of frustration.

“Your paint brush is waiting,” Jun announced from behind you and afterwards tapped it against the wooden easel a few times.

You stood there with the broom in one hand as you tried to talk yourself into being patient with Jun’s idiot self. There was just no way out of Jun’s circle of smart comments. Before you could finish your prep talk, catching you off guard, Jun placed his hand on your wrist. With his other hand, he removed the broom from your fingers and leaned it against the wall. Subsequently, he placed a brush in your palm and waited until you gripped it. When you finally gave in and held it, he dragged you over to sit on the stool beside him.

“I can’t paint,” you announ