A Watercolor Life

It was unrecognizable. Too many watermarks, too many colors, too many lines, too many stains. It was wrong. It looked disgusting. She travelled to the other side of the world to run away from that only to smack herself right into it again. This was wrong. She was working with celebrities, professional men who made a living out of this, who were constantly surrounded by lustful women and media crazed journalists. She was just the hired artist. It made her feel inferior and insignificant. She was just brief, nothing permanent.

It ripped her apart.

So many things seemed insignificant now that she thought of it. Knowing that he loved to eat and that he enjoyed magic tricks like a four year old – that didn’t matter. Nothing did. She could probably pick up the latest magazine of CeCi and read all of that in an interview. Perhaps find out about even more stuff. It just didn’t matter anymore. She would stop trying. Why was she trying, either way? She didn’t know anymore. She just didn’t know why, not anymore.

She had a month to work on the cover, and some of the advertising paintings, and even some merchandise designs. It wasn’t that hard. She did the T-Shirts designs in one sitting, turning their dazzling smiles into breathtaking masterpieces. Lines and colors. That was all she could see. She was blinding herself from the true essence of her creativity. But it didn’t matter anymore. This was a job, after all.

They called her to the studio. She didn’t know why. Sometimes Thunder or Joon would pop around and toss in a suggestion. Joon, before the confrontation (she called it that way), once walked up to her and told her that he could model live, if necessary. She remembered blushing and telling him it was alright. That it wasn’t a necessity. He seemed to insist, and it didn’t help that his wife beater was clinging to every godly curve any human being could ever dream of accomplishing. It was just deliciously perfect. That ass was just screaming for a light tap.

Heck, even G.O. would wander to her and ask her about mundane things, tossing in his charm here and there and shamelessly expressing his interest in her. She remembers feeling incredibly flattered yet awkward. He could never see herself with him. Even Thunder complimented her from time to time. It was only Seungho who seemed to keep everything strictly professional. Except that lunch. But now Za could see that that incident was a once in a life time occurrence. And she cherished it just as much as she hated it.

“Are you hungry?”

She stopped scratching the paper with the pencil, looking up at a gloom looking girl. She had red highlights on her hair. “Nice hair look.” She smiled softly and returned to her drawing. Part of her resented the girl for picking a fight with Seungho, if she just hadn’t done that…

“I’m sorry. Well, yes and no.” The girl sat down, speaking in a manner that told Za that she was about to give her a monolog she had rehearsed long before. “Seungho was really irked. As he should. He takes all of this recording seriously. The other boys, well, they’re more ‘meh’ about the whole situation. Yet, still serious. Look, thing is, I knew he was going to pull out the employer card. As he should. No wait, let me rephrase that. He shouldn’t, not on you. Because you’re not just any employee, on those two weeks you made a conne- that’s too gay. You bond… you befriended the boys, and even him. Do you think he takes every person he hires to lunch?”

“No. Hey, I get it. I know that maybe my attitude brought everything down upon us. But you seriously freaked out. I’m sorry for grabbing the paper, and fuck, it has been eating me inside out and not even Mir knows what the fuck I’ve been rambling around this last week. Oh, don’t go giving me that fucking look, you can try strangling me when I’m done. Thing is, it might not look at it, but the boys are really nice. Okay, they look nice and arrogant and pretty, but actually, thing is, they’re concerned. You’re very adorable and all, Lary. I’m not kidding.”

“As I said, bondage and shit, but not only that, but because they know you were affected. And fuck Seungho, he’s the one being the most bitchy about it. He’s been whipping all of the boys, Mir even begged me to go talk to you today. Telling me something about sleeping and mercy and that his sexy body couldn’t handle it anymore. Moving on. You should… ugh. I don’t even know. Fuck. What was the point in all of this? Fuck. Okay, look, go apologize, kiss him, pet his hair and tell him it’s all glossy. I don’t know. Just do something before his water breaks and he gives birth to the biggest PMS bomb I’ve ever seen. And, by the way, you draw like a beast.”

Lary was doubling over in laughter, she was tearing up and just shamelessly choking on laugh after laugh. Chan immediately stiffened and chuckled along but didn’t really get it. Finally, the red head looked up and wiped a few laugh tears away.

“That. Made. No. Sense.”

Chan scrunched up her nose. “I tried. That’s what counts. Oh! Fuck you.” She couldn’t help laughing along, even more when Lary was wheezing and having a hard time laughing. She started to moan and complain that it hurt, that she couldn’t laugh anymore and that she was going to pee on herself. Chan laughed harder, squealing in that distinctive high pitched laugh of hers she desperately tried to hide by closing her mouth. It only made it worse. Za really started to cry in a mixture of pain and laughter. She was heaving.

“Why - why…”

“I don’t know! I can’t breathe. It hurts. It tmotherfuckinghurtsmakeitstop. Fuck!” Chan kept screaming and clutching her stomach, moaning and laughing and chocking while trying not to laugh, and laughing at her strangled laughs. They attempted to stop laughing when someone opened the door.

Chan made a straight face and said in a deep voice. “One cannot simply walk into Mor… mor…”

“Pfffffttt. Kaw!”

Both girls did this strange snorting sound and resumed their frenzy, Chan even collapsed on the floor and started squirming, protesting about the pain and if they could please make it fucking stop in the name of Jehovah. Lary couldn’t even compose a coherent response.

“Mutiny!”

“What’s going on in here?” G.O. was standing there, just staring and trying to get the girls to talk. But he decided to pass this situation into even more capable hands; he was all sweaty and in need of a shower. He could not deal with that kind of stuff at the moment. And, besides, there was no real reason behind their howling laughs. He closed the door slowly, turning and spotting Joon at a distance.

“Oi, Joon!” He waved his hand, still able to hear the girls in hysterical laughter. The attractive boy capped the bottle he was drinking from, wiping his mouth and casually asking him ‘what’s up?’ before throwing the adjacent room a weird look.

“The girls are sure making noise in there.” That’s when he noticed G.O.’s interested look. He took a step back. “Oh, no you won’t. You are not throwing me this kind of shit on me. You always do it, G.O., I am not-”

“Too late.” One sharp smirk and the dark haired boy was already strutting elsewhere, leaving behind an anguished Joon. He could hear English in that room and he felt oddly intimidated. It was like a war zone, even more when there was a loud thud and a scream. This only urged him on to find someone else to attend the issue. Whatever it was.

“Hey! Thunder!”

“Nope!”

“Shit.” So apparently all of the boys were avoiding the room. Well, it couldn’t be that-

“My bra!”

-he couldn’t get to the door fast enough. His hands twisted the door knob and he ungracefully stumbled into the room, whipping his head left to right trying to see what was going on. All he could see was Chan unmercifully grabbing Za’s bra strap from behind, both eerie silent, until Chan let go of the strap and it slapped Za’s skin.

“BITCH!”

Joon had always been a gentleman, but no matter how many times he repeated the words ‘ladies’ or ‘please’ or even ‘fuck’, neither girls would have it. Besides, it was a wonder Chan could hear Za’s insults over her hysterical laughter. She was practically sobbing. Joon had dealt with crying women, granted. Those who cried because they had been graced by his presence, those that cried over the phone after a night-one-stand, and even those girls who would wake up after getting –or still- being drunk. Oh, yes, Lee Joon has had his share of estrogen tears. But this was slightly different. Laughter tears were another matter altogether. So when he grabbed the doorknob and silently escaped the scene, he wasn’t that surprised with himself.

“Hey, Joon- What the hell is going on?”

Another thing Joon was remarkably keen at, other than being a strutting peacock, was recognizing bad situations. And something, maybe the wafting aroma of sweat, was a clear indicator of shit about to hit the fan. He was also extraordinary in removing himself from the situation with a trademark grin and a clueless shrug, aiming for that perfect cute face. Innocence wasn’t his emblem, per se, but it certainly didn’t hurt to try. What did hurt, of course, was getting shoved to the side. Nobody shoved Lee Joon to the side and lived.

“Lary, please explain-” He went mute. And so did Joon. In fact, they also went stupid, even if this went against general belief. And, really, when Joon smirked and turned to the side, taking a deep breath and whistling, everybody –two girls to be specific- knew they were so fucked over. But when Seungho looked away and placed his hand between himself and the scene, this micro part in their heart knew they were so fucking saved.

“Chan! Give. It. Back!!” Za cowered behind the only table that survived their chaotic antics. But nothing was covering her when she tried to duck under it, because it wasn’t a desk, and tables tended to be stupid and miss one important plank of wood for protection. “My god!” She was flustered like the sun itself, her left arm trying to cover her exposed bra, whilst her right arm helplessly reached over for Chan’s extended her hand up high. “Give it back!” Mortifying moment was horrifyingly mortifying.

“Not until you apologize.” She waved the blouse around. Joon had fled the scene, too excited to get the boys, and Seungho was just too mind fucked to properly stop this from continuing. His spluttering was drowned by Za’s mewls for mercy. She had grabbed two sheets of paper and held them over her breasts. Her face looked like someone grabbed red paint and face-panned her with it.

The three of them could hear hushed voices and rapid steps approaching, and Chan simply smirked as Za ran to the corner and curled up. “Give it me or I’m going to…” she stared at Chan, who pulled her lips into a taut line, mouthing ‘apologize’. The footsteps approached. Her whole body felt cold and hot at the same time. If the boys saw her like that, good lord, she rather whip her hair into a fan and simultaneously staple her nipples.

“I’m…” Seungho looked like he had fallen into a catatonic state. “I’m sorry!” Her squeak was drowned by the roaring laughter of the approaching boys.

“Because…?”

“I’msorryIcalledyouabitch.”

“Much appreciated.”

She couldn’t get her body in the blouse fast enough. Why did she have to get loose blouses, for crying out loud? Her hand seemed to get stuck because the sleeve had wrapped itself around some other part of itself and god fucking damnit if she didn’t hurry the boys were going to-

“Hello, boys.”

Duck, roll, and avoid crisis. Za was still struggling with the blouse, until she heard a hush fall over the room, until sniggers could be heard. She decided to risk a peek, and noticed with much amusement just how the boys crowded around Seungho. Excellent distraction. This provided her an infinite amount of time to untie the sleeves and successfully covering her teddy bear printed bra. As aforementioned, she had this thing for cute. She could hear certain Korean words drift through the room, but her ears couldn’t make them out properly. If she were asked to translate those whispers, she would end up talking about apples and karma.

Chan decided to clear her throat. “I hate to interrupt,” her flawless Korean sliced through the apparent tension, “but I have to note that this was entirely my fault.” Seungho seemed to straighten at this and shot her the sternest glare to ever be created. Not even an overly catholic father who found out his daughter was a hooker could compare. Chan’s cool demeanor actually seemed to crack right under the intensity of his annoyance and- and was that a blush?

Was he blushing?

“What happened?” The boys were trying to drown out their giggles. Mir actually got on the tip of his toes and did hand signs to Chan. Za was never good with playing hand-charades, but either he was telling her ‘oh, bitch you be so fucked’ or ‘calm the fuck down I’m having a seizure.’ Either didn’t seem to work.

“I… I apologized to Za about all the pranks I pulled on her, and… and…” She looked down and laughed nervously. “Don’t look at me like that, it makes me- I’m sorry!” She was literally burning alive. “I pulled her bra strap, and that shit hurts, so she went right at me, and called me a bitch, and my hormones went all Optimus Prime and I took off… her… blouse. Oh my god.” She was pressed against the wall. Mir was not able to soothe her anymore with his hand signs. Well, not like ‘you better choke yourself’ was very reassuring to begin with (if translated correctly).

Za decided that cowering was a very preferred position to be in at the moment. Seungho’s glare morphed into a grimace, which then melted into a scowl and finally took the form of the most disgusted look on this Galaxy. Ouch. But no less than a second after the slideshow of disappointment, he turned to Za. There it was; the blush. God damn it. She was the one supposed to be blushing.

“We’ll discuss this later.”

He left. Like that. Mir immediately ran to Chan, lightly prodding her around the face and shoulders, trying to get some kind of reaction. Got what she deserved, really. Instead, Lee and G.O. were harshly whispering between each other, shooting occasional looks at Za. She was currently trying to rearrange the chaotic mess Chan left on the table after a failed attempt at impersonating cat woman. But she didn’t, for a fact, miss the open stare of lust that radiated from Joon’s eyes. Oh fuck no. He only used the sex face for explicit music videos. She felt uncomfortable and hot again. But not the good hot, it was the ‘who the fuck put the heater so high’ kind of hot.

Now that she thought of it, Seungho was the one to get the VIP view of her perfectly visible cleavage. Now she was really started to wonder who was blasting the room with the fiery breaths of hell itself. She couldn’t feel any more embarrassed. Well, that certainly dried over any watermark she left on her canvas. No fucking doubt.