11 months before the invasion

Ji Hye walked down the dark hallway, her steps echoing off the concrete floor. The walls were painted white with clerestory windows at the high ceiling above. The whole space gave off a fake bougie feeling like the university wanted the students to forget they were in a repurposed building since they didn't have enough funds to cough up a new building for some measly artists. Hanging from the high ceiling, the occasional light was on for any after-hour students, making the corridor seem even narrower than it already was. A few prize pieces from the students' last project hung in the hallway on display making anyone passing by feel like they were in an art gallery.

She huffed up the stairs to the top floor. As grand as the high ceilings made the large spaces feel, they were a bitch for stairs. Even though she considered herself relatively athletic, she had to stop to catch her breath at the top.

Music drifted down the hall, echoing off the bare concrete. All the upperclassmen resided up here and as hardly anyone ventured up into the depth of the building, they didn't bother with the show of displaying their art. However, sculptures of varying materials dotted the hall, not so much on display, but like the students didn't know what to do with them after they were done. Accompanying them were stacks of what Ji Hye deemed garbage, but Ye Joon had explained that it was more like recycling. Any student that had leftover material that was big enough for reuse would be put out here for other students to use.

She followed the music down the hall, finally making it to the door of Ye Joon's studio. The door was open, powerful classical music pouring out of it. She was about to knock on the door frame to announce her presence, but the scene inside made her pause.

The art studio was a mess, resembling something out of one of Ji Hye's nightmares. Large desks filled the room, four desks to a pod with three groups on one side of the room and four on the other, a wide corridor down the center separating them. Little picture windows punched through the walls, the dark sky contrasting starkly against the white painted walls, though you could hardly tell the walls were white with all the sketches that were pinned up covering every bare inch.

The large desk Ye Joon stood at was so full of supplies she could barely see the surface. It seemed as though every desk in the large room was in the same level of disarray, but while his was primarily sketch pads, canvases, pens, and paints, other desks also had clays, metals, glues, and other varying substances littering their desks and floor around. Through the disorderly mess she saw two or three desks that, although had the same range of eclectic materials, were neatly organized and pushed to the sides, leaving the work surface open. Ji Hye couldn't help but nod in appreciation as she stared at those desks, a small reprieve from the chaos of the room.

Ye Joon was leaning over a medium size canvas, brush in hand making large red strokes across the canvas. She had seen him create a lot of artwork, but those were all sketches or small paintings. She had never seen him work on anything this large. His arm moved in confident bold strokes, head tilted slightly to the side, eyebrows knit in concentration. He seemed older, more mature than she had ever seen before. Captivated, she leaned against the door frame, head resting against the cool metal as she watched him.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed before he straightened, eyes closing as he stretched his neck back and forth. He made to turn back to his work when he noticed Ji Hye lurking in the doorway.

Breaking out into a wide grin, his mouth made a cute heart shape as either side of his cupids bow lifted, the corners rounding out. Looking at him, she realized that maybe it wasn't just the shape of his eyes that made him look sad, but the shape of his mouth too. Unlike the majority of people, he had lips that turned down at the corners that touched every expression with a hint of sadness, unless he was smiling like this. When had she begun to notice that?

"Hey there," he said.

She smiled bright enough to match his own, but made no move to step inside, "hey."

"Why are you lurking in the hallway like a pervert?"

Pushing away from the door frame, she faked a shocked look, "I've been caught. Arrest me officer," she held her arms out, wrists together, her head bowed.

He blinked a few times, staring at her. Just as she was about to put her arms down, the awkwardness too much, he began to laugh. It started out timid like he wasn't sure if it was appropriate, but soon became loud and unreserved. She smiled as she watched him laugh.

She loved being around him during these times, when no one was around, and he could just be himself.

He thought she was crazy for thinking he was different when they were alone. He was adamant that he still laughed and smiled the same even when he was out in public with her, but, although he had gotten better, it was a lie. She could tell his smile was always shyer, his laugh never quite free when there were others around. He had improved in the year that they'd known each other, no longer bowing excessively low to anyone he met and holding his head up when talking to strangers for about half a conversation before ducking his head looking for an escape.

He assured her he was able to speak with the people in his studio now without the anxiety he used to have. They had even asked him to go out to drinks with them, which he had accepted only to immediately regret his decision. The classes he taught were also going well. He kept doing it even after winter break ended, the owner gushing about how much the attendees loved having him as their teacher even though he was a bit difficult to understand at times through all the mumbling.

She was proud of him. Although she could only take his word about improving with those around him, she was happy that others finally got to see how amazing he really was.

"Can I come in?" she asked once he had stopped laughing, "I didn't want to interrupt. You seemed really focused."

"Of course," he said, turning down the music and putting his brush in a cup of water shaking it out. "What are you doing here at," he looked at the clock on the wall and grimaced, "two in the morning?"

She sighed, "couldn't sleep. I tried calling, but you didn't pick up."

"I could have been sleeping."

She shook her head, even though he wasn't looking at her, instead concentrating on wiping off the brush on a paper towel being careful not to drip.

"You keep your sound on when you sleep. You would have picked up. The only time you silence your phone is when you're here."

Placing the paintbrush in a cup where it joined several others, he finally looked up at her and blinked in surprise.

"You cut your hair," his eyebrows lifted, eyes wide with shock as he stared at her

"Yeah," she ran her hand self-consciously through her hair which now ended just below her chin. He continued to stare at her like an artist considering how best to capture this new look in his sketches.

Looking for anything to say under his calculating gaze, she said, "you're showing your forehead. I don't think I've ever seen you with your hair pulled back like this."

His hair was tucked into a maroon beret, only a couple strands by his ears escaping, completely exposing his eyes and forehead, in a way Ji Hye had never seen before. The beret perfectly complemented the solid maroon sweater vest he wore with a white button down underneath. She thought the whole ensemble was very French artist, but that could have just been the beret.

"Yeah," mirroring her, he touched the beret a bit self-consciously. "It's harder to paint like this when my hair is down. I like to work on it when no one is here so I can put my hair back."

Walking to stand right behind him, she looked down at the piece he was working on. One half was colored in different shades of blue, the strokes fluid and languid. The other half was filled with harsh, jagged lines of red. The two met in the center in an overlapping battle of blues and reds, soft and hard.

"Do you like it? It represents the emotional battle of anger and sadness when someone is facing a difficult situation. It's not finished yet. I'm going to add in gold flecks growing throughout to show that a little happiness has the power to overcome these feelings."

"Right," she drew the word out, nodding sagely.

He sighed, "you have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

"You know," she clicked her tongue, "abstract art just really isn't my thing."

"But this is simple color symbolism."

"Uh-huh," she said, pulling up a chair to the side of the desk facing Ye Joon.

He sighed again, shaking his head. Lifting the canvas in front of him with one hand and grabbing another off the desk next to him, he swapped their places.

"Wait, that's yours too?"

"Uh, yeah. Our studio isn't full, so some of us got two desks."

"You're saying that all this," she made a sweeping motion with her arm at the two desks that looked like a hurricane had come and wiped out an art shop, "is yours?"

"Yeah."

"Ah," she tried and failed to keep the horror out of her voice. She looked at the new canvas in front of him, covered in reds, oranges, and yellows, "what's that of?"

"It's going to be a fall piece. I'm going to add silhouettes in it when the background is done."

"Oh, yeah. I can see that," she tried to sound intrigued, "color symbolism."

He rolled his eyes and took a small canvas from a teetering stack, handing it to her.

"Here, Ms. Unappreciative. Show me what you can do." She took the canvas from him, grabbed a brush and some paints, then took out her phone to search for what she wanted to paint. Ye Joon leaned across the desk to the little speaker and turned it up.

They sat there in silence listening to the music and painting. Occasionally, one of them would break the silence with a short conversation about varying things but they always lapsed back into a contented silence. He had changed the playlist to be his "favorites" playlist, and a wide assortment of songs played in languages from all over the world. Much to her relief, most of the songs were in Korean or Japanese. She didn't mind songs in other languages, but she liked the comfort of listening to a song in a language she knew.

An upbeat playful song came on making Ye Joon's head whip up, a smile on his face.

"I love this song," he stood, propelling his chair backwards making it smack into another chair behind him. His body began to sway quickly with the song, finding the beat. Then his legs and arms began to move in a similar fashion, moving him out into the open space between the desks until he was dancing in a way that resembled swing dancers that Ji Hye sometimes saw in films.

The scene was just too much, the beret wrapping the whole thing together in a perfect picture. Laughing, she asked, "where did you learn to dance?"

"Youtube," he said, never breaking his stride. "When I saw it on TV I wanted to learn it, but since I couldn't attend classes, I decided to learn with Youtube instead."

He went over to her, taking her hand and tried to pull her from her seat.

She vigorously shook her head, keeping her butt firmly in the chair, "oh no, I can't dance."

"It'll be fun," he hauled her up despite her protests, dropping her small painting into her seat. She regretted forcing him to the gym along with the running sessions as he lifted her like she weighed nothing.

He immediately lifted their joined hands and pushed her under, then swiftly pulled her back in. She stumbled a bit at the quick tempo of the music, but he put a steading hand on her lower back to catch her.

"I used to dance with my mom all the time. She always had fun. Just follow my lead, stop thinking and relax," on the last word he shook his body back and forth making her body rock with him.

"Did you just compare me with your mother?"

"I would never insult her like that. She's way more fun than you."

Before she could so much as react to his insult, he pushed her out in a quick spin. This time her feet found the beat, but when he pulled her in, he swiftly sidestepped, forcing her into another spin. She gasped, her hair flying out on all sides. She was struck with the thought that it probably resembled a frisbee right now, but the thought was quickly cut off as it smacked her in the face from the force of the stop. She spit the hairs out of her mouth only to then laugh at the absurdity of it all.

She was starting to feel the music course through her. There was no one there but her and Ye Joon. There was nothing to worry about. With another laugh she felt herself relax into the movements as Ye Joon whisked her around.

His large hand wrapped around her waist, the other gently grasping her hand. They rocked to the quick rhythm of the music, Ye Joon's steps light and joyful, her steps more heavy but no less joyful. The moves always started with a spin, her hair fanning out from the tempo, but diverged into different moves after that. Sometimes, he would spin her out and he would spin with her. Other times, he would let go of her entirely and do his own funky moves with his legs, then grabbing her and spinning her back. Occasionally, she would end up spinning back and her back would bump against his chest, arms wrapping around herself still holding his hands, as he held her close, his breath hot against her neck.

The song came to its close and giving her a final twirl, he pulled her in. She felt his hand move her upper back, his other wrapping around her waist as he slowly leaned her back in a finishing dip. She made an elegant squawking sound as she gripped his upper arm with one hand, the other wrapping around his neck. He leaned over her, laughing. His eyes were scrunched up with pure happiness, his mouth making that cute little heart.

"I do like your hair," he said, "it's perfect for dancing."

She laughed, her vice-like grip relaxing a little when she was sure she wasn't going any farther.

"And I like your forehead," she teased.

Laughing, he gently lifted her up until she was standing, the heart shaped smile never leaving his face. The warm reassuring presence left her back and she slowly dropped her hand from his neck.

"Told you it would be fun."

"Okay," she conceded, "You were right. That was fun." She bumped his shoulder with her own, "thanks."

Ye Joon smiled at her, a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. He was never smug when he was proven correct. She could tell he was genuinely happy when someone admitted he was right, like he couldn't believe he was correct until someone else confirmed it.

"I meant it when I said I like your forehead. You should wear your hair back more or at least part it a little. You would look less depressed all the time," he looked at her, face unamused. She held up her hands in a placating gesture, "I'm just saying, when you show your face you're a lot more approachable."

"That's what I need. More people talking to me."

"Fair point."

Walking back to their seats, Ye Joon looked down at her small canvas sitting in her seat.

"What do we have here?" his eyebrows lifted, as he picked up the picture. "That's a nice," he hesitated, "horse?"

She snatched the painting out of his hands, only to shove it back into his face, the calm moment completely vanishing. "What do you mean a horse?" She pointed furiously at the brown creature, "this is clearly a bunny."

"What's all of that around it?"

"Flowers," she said, indignantly.

"Oh," he drew the word out, "obviously."

He stared at her painting for a beat longer, until he nodded, apparently having decided on something.

"You know," he clicked his tongue, "my beginner art classes are only 30,000 Won a session."

"Oh, come on," she lightly smacked him in the arm with her painting.

"Hey," he protested, rubbing his arm in feigned pain. She took back what she thought about him never being smug, because it was as plain as day in his eyes now.

Smug bastard, she thought.

"Well, if you don't mind," she flopped back into her seat, "me and my bunny," she emphasized the word "bunny" like any idiot could see that that's clearly what it was, "have some unfinished business."

She picked up her paintbrush, dipping it in the light brown paint and continued her masterpiece.