Wooyoung and I sat across from each other as we each had everything readied up for us to paint. Including some newspapers under us incase we were being clumsy and end up with paint stains on the ground.
The television played in the background so it wasn't quiet as we painted.
"I haven't painted in a very long time," I told him.
Wooyoung wet his paintbrush and nodded his head, "I haven't either. I guess we can pick up where we left off."
"Do you have any suggestion on what we should paint?" I asked him.
"Self portrait?" He raised his brow.
I nodded my head in agreement, "that sounds good."
We started getting all the right colours that we needed and went to paint ourselves on the canvas. We were so into it that we stayed quiet for the most part. I noticed that Wooyoung was gently drawing his brush against the board, his tongue sticking out in concentration. While I was here, harshly rubbing my brush against the white frame and ending up with the bristles all messed up. Yeah, I can't paint.
I sighed and dipped the brush in the water to fix the brush back to what it suppose to look like.
"How's your picture coming along?" Wooyoung asked.
I took a moment to look at what I had drawn and tried to put it into words, "not bad," was all I had come up with. I mean, it wasn't bad nor was it good. It was just there.
"Well, I'm almost finished and I can say it turned out well than I expected," he said as he looked at his artwork and nodded in satisfaction.
Wish I can relate, I thought.
I resumed back to painting and tried to finish up my work. Even though I was painting, my mind wandered off. Which resulted in me accidentally dipping the brush in the wrong colour and ended up colouring my cheeks blue.
I gasped, which made Wooyoung snap his eyes to me, "what happened?"
"I painted my cheeks blue," I whined.
I laid my canvas flat on the table and Wooyoung took a good look at it, "I think you did well."
"You're only saying that to make me feel better," I pout.
"Here, I'll tell you how to fix a mistake on your artwork," he says gesturing his finger for me to come close.
I leaned forward so that I was close enough for him to tell me what he wanted to say. But instead of doing that, he had blue paint all over his hand and he smeared it on the same cheek that I accidentally coloured myself on the painting.
"Wooyoung," I cried.
"It appears you didn't make a mistake on your work," he smirks.
Rather than me complaining about the paint that was stained on my skin, I dipped my paintbrush in the water and took the shade of black and flicked it at him. He flinched as it hits him, landing across his face. I let out an evil laugh when he sat there in shock. His hand brought up to where the paint landed and looked at his, now, stained fingers with wide eyes.
"Oh, it's on," he says with his eyes turned to me.