A/N: To all the Chaneul shippers, do not lose hope ;)

August, 2014

“Are you sure about this?” He huffed, placing two buckets of paint on the makeshift protection mat they've made with old newspaper.

She turned to him, grinning wide and threw him a paintbrush. “Definitely.”

Kris easily caught the brush, lips stretching into a small warm smile as he walked over to her and crouched down. They both stared at the old wooden shelf. “Let's do this.”

Earlier that week, Haneul and Kris went to an annual flea market type sale in town, and they stumbled across a particular stand with an old lady selling some antique wooden furniture. One particular shelf at the back caught Haneul's eye, it was large, had two glass doors on the top half and three rows of drawers on the bottom. The woodwork was beautiful, with the most perfect swirls and patterns carved by hand on the sides and slightly worn, golden knobs to give it the needed classic vintage feel. After much consideration on her part and a little bargain with the lady, she decided to buy it. And after bringing it home – with the help of Kris – she realized that the dark worn mahogany color of the wood just did not compliment the color scheme of her apartment, so she decided to paint it white.

Therefore there they were, in the middle the living room, having moved the coffee table aside to give some space, with two buckets of white paint and brushes in hands, ready to get to work.

“We've gotta sand the surface first so that the paint will hold.” Kris mumbled, standing up and shrugging off his button up shirt to reveal the white tank top inside.

Haneul let her eyes linger on his upper body, eyes trailing down his muscled arms and stopping a little bit too long at the veins running down the inner sides of his forearm. She could see his toned body showing through the thin fabric of the cotton, and the tank top being so tight-fitting did little to conceal his body. She swallowed hard and looked up, finding his eyes and the all too endearing smirk on his lips.

He held up the sandpapers.

She blinked. “Uh, yeah, okay. You're the art expert here, so.”

Kris laughed, moving closer to her and resumed his position beside her on the ground. He placed a sandpaper on her palm and met her eyes. His face was merely inches away from hers, and just when she thought she was going to suffer from the lack of oxygen because she wasn't really breathing, he moved even closer.

Long, elegant fingers tucked some stray strands that have escaped from her ponytail behind her ear, the tips of his fingers lingering at the shell of her ear. She could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks and ears as she tried to slow her frantic heartbeat.

“Breathe, Neul.” He said softly, his breath ghosting over her upper lip.

She jerked a little, but did as she was told. “You make that a difficult thing when you're all...” She muttered, gesturing mindlessly at him. “...that.”

His laugh came in low, soft huffs and if anything, he inched even closer. “Is that a bad thing or a good thing