1. Awkward Mornings.

            You lay peacefully, staring at the beautiful artwork sleeping sweetly next to you.

            His face was so flawless, his eyelashes so long and delicate, his nose, proud and tall, and his mouth, pouty and addictive. You snuggle your fingers to his silhouette, and traced his features, enjoying the moment.

            Sure, you were a makeup artist, and deep inside a painter as well, but if he was handed to you, you would stand there silently, not sure what to cover up because everything about him was just so perfect…

            Wait a moment.

            You look around. Okay, this is your studio, that’s for sure. Your unfinished canvases were placed in a semi-circular manner, around you and where the artwork was sleeping. Both of you lay on the floor on the white woolen carpet, white drapes as blankets. The sunshine quietly sneaked into your studio, lighting up the room through the thin white drapes…

            You sit up, gasping as the white drapes fall to your side, revealing your torso. Okay… You shut your eyes, trying to think back to the night before, and what happened…

            His smile was what caught your eye. It was so sweet, almost coated with honey syrup, and then sprinkled with more sugar. He held out his camera, and asked politely, “Hi, would it be alright to take a photo of your hands holding the champagne?” He smiled, and added, “They are so beautiful.”

            It was an art show, you remember now. It was one of those underground secret art shows that was ‘invitation only’. You hold out your class of champagne and nod, almost drowning in his smile.

You two talk for a long time, both standing close to the corners of the art gallery, both holding champagnes and then soon cocktails. You’re happy that he knows a lot about art, right, he said something about wanting to become a photographer.

You tell him you want to become an artist, but you are just an upcoming makeup artist working for photo shoots. He smiles and tells you enviously, “At least you are working with something that is close to your dream.”

You can’t remember if he told you what his current occupation was, or what his name was… Did you tell him your name?

You memory gets hazy from there. All you remember were the soft, nibbling kisses he gave and the hot demanding touches that followed. Your neck throbbed with heat. Did he leave kiss marks? Your head hurts more.

Shaking in your head and deciding to figure this out later, you try to stand up. Not wanting to be completely , you grab one of the white drapes, and suddenly an unfamiliar pain shot through you.

What… Oh right. You curse silently. Staring angrily at the red patch of dried blood on the white drapes, you bit your lip. That’s just GREAT. You worked very hard to not get into this type of situation when you were much younger, and now? A few cocktails and a beautiful smile, you lose your wits… and as well as your ity.

Feeling more dejected than ever, you push yourself up, grabbing the white drapes. At least wash these, you thought, before he wakes up. Putting your hand on one of the empty easels around you, you try to stand up.

Unfortunately, the easel, not being able to support your weight, it tumbles down with you, creating a huge mess. It crash stirred the sleeping artwork, which woke with fright.

You probably look like a scared bambi now, your eyes growing wide with fear as he woke up.

“Hyung… What is all this racket –“ He stopped dead on his tracks, noticing you leaning on a tumbled easel, holding the white drapes close.

You two look at each other, wide-eyed and speechless.

“Uh, good morning?” You started, not sure what to say.

He nods cautiously, and was silent for a moment. You two stare at each other again, trying to swallow the silence. 

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