Then, with a rudeness that bordered on shocking, he spun my chair around to face him. He gripped both armrests to cut off any escape route and leaned his upper body close, pressing in on me. Personal space, boundaries — none of it mattered anymore. I felt completely swallowed whole into his territory. Without understanding what was happening, I found myself cornered against the chair back with nowhere to go, forced to face Seon Eunhu as he reached his hand toward me.
Seon Eunhu wasn’t looking at me. More precisely, he was looking somewhere near my eyebrows. His straight, clean fingers moved directly toward my face. I forgot to breathe, watching his fingertips, and just as I tensed my chin downward on instinct — his fingers touched my bangs.
“Did you do all the work by yourself? You got plaster on your bangs. How careless.”
“……”
Maintaining that close distance, Seon Eunhu gently rubbed at the plaster he said was caught in my bangs with his fingertips. From the slight tug on my hair, I could gauge how much pressure he was using. He was only touching my hair, but I felt as though even the smallest movement would snap a thread spun from sugar — so I couldn’t move at all. Completely frozen, I alternated between looking at his two eyes, and then, becoming aware of the faint trembling of my eyelids, I dropped my gaze. His rich, intoxicating scent was right in front of me, and yet I couldn’t even bring myself to breathe it in — my chest felt like it was burning from the lack of air.
“I got most of it off, but it’s not completely clean, so maybe a little more water… What’s wrong?”
Only then did Seon Eunhu notice my reaction and ask. He tilted his head and peered into my eyes as if he genuinely couldn’t help but wonder. Strangely, every time his brown irises revealed their depth — like the bottom of a still pond — I got the odd feeling that my innermost thoughts were being laid bare too.
“It’s not that…”
Not knowing what to say to Seon Eunhu, who was watching me with puzzled eyes, I could only open and close my lips. I didn’t understand my own reaction either, so there was nothing I could say.
Was it because this was the first time I’d made eye contact with someone at such close range? The most convincing explanation I could come up with right now was that I had no immunity to physical contact, so I’d become unbearably awkward.
I looked away from Seon Eunhu, who was still close. As I turned my head, the cheek I’d inadvertently offered him felt terribly embarrassing and pathetic.
“I was just going to say it’s fine — I’m showering before my part-time shift anyway.”
So I made up some excuse and spun my chair away, breaking free from his hand.
I jumped up from my seat and started glancing around as if I were looking for something. It was because I was too embarrassed to look directly at Seon Eunhu’s face right away.
“Looking for this?”
Seon Eunhu held out my phone, which had been sitting on the worktable. I took it without even looking at him, like someone who had something to hide. Honestly, I hadn’t even been thinking about my phone, but I acted as if that was exactly what I’d been looking for.
“Oh, thank you. My head’s just all over the place right now…”
“Why are you suddenly all over the place? Did something happen just now?”
“No. I just glanced at the clock and it made me feel rushed. If I want to shower before leaving, time’s going to be really tight, so I should head out.”
“Alright, then. Good work.”
“Yes. Thank you for your hard work.”
I bowed my head in farewell, and I could feel heat rising to my face. Even without checking, it was obvious my cheeks were flushed red, so I couldn’t properly lift my head.
“You said you’re busy today, so I’ll treat you to a meal next time. I should compensate you for assisting. Take care.”
“……”
Under normal circumstances, I really would have just left like that. If not for the excitement I’d felt while learning today, I would have fled the studio by now.
But then the voice of another senior came back to me — the one who had laughed and said something about a “terminal connection” when Seon Eunhu explained today was the only day I’d be helping. And Seon Eunhu’s tone just now, drawing a line between the work and a meal he’d buy me “next time,” caught my feet before I could leave. Even with the discomfort in my chest, a desire to learn more of his techniques put up a fight.
“…But this isn’t the end of the assisting, right? You said you’d show me how to do poly casting too.”
“What?”
“You said that to me yesterday. I came because you said you’d teach me both plaster and poly casting.”
I raised it slowly, carefully, worried it might upset him — but Seon Eunhu’s brow still furrowed. However, the fact that he didn’t look away told me he wasn’t going to deny ever saying it. It seemed Seon Eunhu remembered what he’d said too.
After silently alternating his gaze between my eyes, Seon Eunhu wet his lips with his tongue. Instinctively, my eyes followed that movement, and at the same moment, a low voice spilled from his parted lips.
“Are you free tomorrow?”
He asked with a resigned air, his regret plain to see.
“Yes. I don’t have work tomorrow.”
“Ah.”
Seon Eunhu gave a nod, his gaze drifting gradually downward. Anyone could see he was in a foul mood, but I pretended not to notice and stared at the studio floor along with him.
I really did get reeled in by a weird one.
Something to that effect reached my ears, so I looked at Seon Eunhu again — but instead of repeating himself, he only shrugged. The downward cast of his eyes was anything but gentle.
“See you tomorrow, then.”
“Yes. Take care.”
I walked out of the studio with composure, and the moment the door closed behind me, I bolted. I ran for a long while and only let myself walk once I’d cleared the campus. Then, when I met a faint breeze head-on, the memory of Seon Eunhu’s fingers brushing through my bangs came back to me, and my hair stood on end. That fluttery, ticklish feeling in my chest strangely refused to settle, all the way until I got back to my officetel.
Late at night, after closing up the café and returning home.
Done with getting ready for bed, I lay down and checked my phone — and found a message from Seon Eunhu.
[Seon Eunhu]: Apron won’t work tomorrow, so wear your work clothes
In that short text, the word “apron” strangely stirred my sense of smell. As if I’d breathed in his scent too deeply and it had somehow lingered in my lungs — that fragrance rose up out of nowhere, then quickly dispersed.
I sent back a short reply and closed my eyes. And then I slowly replayed the scene of Seon Eunhu working. It had been a good opportunity — a chance encounter where I’d picked up skills I’d been lacking.
The purpose of the splitting ball and detergent-mixed water. The thin consistency of the first coat as I felt it spreading with a brush. The feel of the plaster as he chipped it away with a knife on the second coat, and the hand movements to keep it from running.
And then…
The hand gripping the knife with ease. The veins raised along the curve of his hand, the knob of his wrist bone jutting out. His straight fingers drawing close to my face, and those eyes — deep as an abyss. The sharp edge to his gaze, so at odds with the gentleness in his fingertips. The suffocating silence. The inexplicable pounding of my heart.
“……”
Was it because of Seon Eunhu’s scent, which I’d faintly caught? Irritated by thoughts that kept veering in a strange direction, I rolled onto my side. But no matter how hard I tried to think back on the casting process, the muddied feeling refused to return to its original, pure form — pulling out only a vague, unsettled emotion instead.
“Why do I keep doing this.”
I lamented and pulled the blanket all the way over my head, and only then did my mind feel like it was clearing — but sadly, I drifted off to sleep before long, and everything reset.
Seon Eunhu’s POV
The art supply shop occupied an entire floor of the building. From the outside it looked like it would be spacious, but step inside and you’d find it cramped with display shelves, far from comfortable. The damp smell of old paper that hit you the moment you walked in made it easy to guess just how long this place had been around.
In aisles barely wide enough for a single person to squeeze through, there was truly nothing you couldn’t find. Paints and pigments, brushes lined up by size, dyes, plaster bandages, instant glue, and more. At the very top of the shelves, where every item was packed in without a gap, plaster busts sat lined up, gathering dust.
Seon Eunhu picked out a hardener from the chemicals section. Then he selected a few more consumables and brought them to the counter.
The art shop owner — who had been running this place even before Seon Eunhu had started university — glanced over the items he’d brought up, then turned his eyes back to his phone. On the small screen, a young singer was delivering a trot performance with impressive flair.
“Four items, twenty-three thousand won.”
A wrinkled, rough finger pointed idly at the card reader. The meaning was clear: swipe your card or tap your phone — figure it out yourself.
Once Seon Eunhu pulled his phone away, the card reader processed the payment with a loud beep. The owner, out of habit, rested his fingers near where the receipt would come out, but couldn’t tear his eyes from his phone.
That kid absolutely has to win.
For someone who projected such an indifferent air, the earnest wish held by this old neighborhood fixture was surprisingly pure. Catching a glimpse of it, Seon Eunhu smiled to himself.
“Receipt?”
“It’s fine. Thank you.”
He gathered everything into one hand and walked out of the shop. The sound of the trot faded the further he got, replaced by the growing noise of the street. The lively chatter of passersby and the revving engines of delivery motorcycles reminded him, almost with a jolt, that it was now well into the afternoon.
Students poured down in groups from the opposite direction, all heading home from school. Seon Eunhu walked without deliberately letting his eyes linger on them. There was no reason to look their way and add noise beyond what was already physical.
Maybe I’ll smoke a cigarette before heading in.
He considered it briefly, then remembered Go Taerim would be arriving soon and swallowed the urge. He didn’t want to leave some clueless underclassman alone in an empty studio just for the sake of a cigarette.
From outside, the lights in the third-year studio were off. Assuming no one would be there, he swung the door open — and found two figures inside, startling violently.
“Urk!”
“Oh god!”
Rather than startling at the sight of two people he recognized, Seon Eunhu frowned.
