The Makeup Artist | j.jk

Get to Know You

Avoiding eye contact with you, he concentrates on the floor. "Noona, I- well I just want to know more about you."

"Oh," You peep, taken aback by his words. You think- you know that he means it as a friendly gesture, but the question underlying the sentence is present. Could it mean something more?

Scratching the back of his neck, he looks down nervously. "Ah, just forget what I sa-"

"No!" You cut him off quickly, trying to fix the situation. "No, I just wasn't expecting that. I guess I want to know more about you too, Jungkook."

You hear him let out a breath of what seems to be relief. "Um... I- I'm sorry. I don't really know how to do these kind of things." He stutters cutely while glancing up at you, his legs crossed and hands cupped around the ramen cup.

"Let's just starts easy," You suggest. "Where are you from?"

You see him relax, glad that you saved him once again from the awkward situation. "Busan."

"I've lived here in Seoul all my life." You say while setting your chopsticks in the cup, giving up on it completely. "You can ask a question now."

"Uh, what's your favorite color?" He asks, tensing up again.

Chuckling lightly, you respond, "I like red."

"I like red too!" He exclaims, acting as if a third of the populations favorite color isn't red.

"Why do you like red?" You ask next.

Again, you see him relax, even though it's just a little. "I don't know. Well, I guess it's because it reminds me of hip hop."

You nod your head before giving your reason. "I like it because it expresses many things. Red can mean anger, energy, danger, strength, power, determination as well as passion, desire... and love." You list, looking him directly in the eyes. "I think it's a very beautiful color, filled with many intense emotions."

He stares back at you, lost from words. You too are surprised in yourself with the way this simple question led to you saying that. You awkwardly shift in your spot on the hard floor, waiting for him to go on. "That was..."

"A lot. I know," You sigh. "I'm not the best at doing these things either."

"That was a lot," He nods. "But... it was good."

"Good?" You question, not understanding what he means.

He shakes his head. "No, not good. It was very meaningful, but I understood all of it."

A shy smile made it's way to your face. "Thank you."

"Uh," He clears his throat, "It's my turn. Why'd you choose your career?"

Your smile turns gentle upon his question. "My Mom, she was a makeup artist. People would tell her that she was crazy for wanting to be one, and that she would never be successful." Looking up, you meet his eyes. Leaning back, your hands support you on the hard floor. "She proved them wrong. I was little when she passed away, but I never forgot about her. And here I am today."