It was another one of those days on which the canvas liked to believe that it was sentient.

This day’s pretending had brought with it the realization that it wasn’t hidden away any longer. Hung up at the end of the corridor with focus lights turned towards it, the canvas felt quite happy and content in its existence. And it wasn’t alone either! One of the walls of the passage was covered in canvases of all sizes, and the other was covered with photographs. It looked as if Jiyong had finally gotten around to stepping out, and meeting friends, if the evidence was to be believed. The vivid colours of the paintings were a sharp contrast to the monochrome of the photographs, but somehow it all seemed to fit. However, if someone were to ask the canvas’ opinion, it would have said that maybe they could try mixing up the two, but of course no one had asked it.

In any case, it was happy. More so because even though from its vantage point it couldn’t see Jiyong in any of the rooms, the front door was at the other end of the corridor, and it could see him leaving, all dressed up prettily, or dashingly, depending on his mood for the day, and then watch him come back, almost always all smiles, despite the outfit looking a little tired from the day.

One thing the canvas had yet to make up its mind about was all the times someone else walked in the door. Okay fine, it didn’t have a problem with everyone, just one Choi Seunghyun.

The reason it couldn’t quite figure out whether it liked him visiting or not was because oftentimes when Seunghyun visited, he took care to spare at least five minutes or so to simply look at the canvas at the end of the corridor. It was enough to make anyone self-conscious, even if this were an inanimate painting! He looked, and looked, and sometimes reached out to trace the little trees that Jiyong had added later, or the wires running across the middle. He would probably have tried to reach the stars too, but they were a little too high for him.

But, even though the canvas liked and hated his attention all the same, it seemed as if Jiyong thought the same. “Hyuuuuung! Are you looking at the painting again? I swear I’ll take it down if you don’t get back here. The food’s getting cold. Again.”

Seunghyun smiled and called back, “Sure, take it down. I’ll take it with me. And then I won’t come around anymore because I’ll already have it at home!”

The canvas was properly horrified at this. No matter how much Jiyong confused it at times with his antics, it still loved how the flat seemed to come alive the moment he stepped in. The lights, the music, him dancing around (or swaying, or running, depending on the time of day), talking to everything and nothing, even if they didn’t reply. The canvas really didn’t want to leave and was about to try its best to file a complaint – to whom, it wasn’t sure yet – and then it heard Jiyong speak from the kitchen.

“Is that your way of asking me to move in? Because it’s you who’ll shift. No way I’m leaving this view.”

Seunghyun laughed, all dimples and closed eyes, and turned away from the canvas, “Right.”

He obviously did not, could not, hear the faked sentience of the canvas yelling after him, asking who would go where, and if it could still have its view of the front door.