014 | Just One More Minute

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Mid-May brought cherry blossoms, warmer air… and chaos.

The annual Spring Cultural Festival had arrived—aka the school’s excuse to turn hallways into food stalls, classrooms into haunted houses, and shy confessions into real-life K-dramas.

Jiwon had signed up for the Art Club’s live painting booth, where each member would work on a themed canvas in real-time. She didn’t love attention, but she loved art more.

“Can’t wait to publicly embarrass myself with my shaky brushwork,” she muttered, setting up her easel outside the gym.

Sunoo, dressed as a human-sized macaron for the baking club, waddled past and shouted, “You got this, Picasso!”

Jiwon snorted. “You look like a snack.”

“You know it!”

Behind her, another voice cut in.

“Is that Sunoo flirting in costume again?” Jungwon asked, walking up with his hands in his pockets.

He looked extra fresh in a crisp white button-up and rolled sleeves—part of the student council’s event volunteer uniform. His black hair was swept slightly back, forehead showing. Unfair.

Jiwon tried not to stare. “You clean up well.”

He grinned. “So you’re admitting I don’t usually?”

“Not what I said.”

He leaned against the table beside her easel. “You nervous?”

She glanced at the canvas, then back at him. “Maybe. I haven’t painted in front of this many people before.”

“Well,” he said casually, “if it helps, I plan to stand right here for the next hour looking extremely impressed.”

She laughed. “That’s so specific.”

“I practiced.”

True to his word, Jungwon stuck around while she painted, occasionally handing her tissues when paint smudged her cheek, or opening water bottles with exaggerated ceremony like her personal assistant.

“You’re distracting,” she mumbled through a smile.

“Part of my charm.”

But when she concentrated, he stayed quiet—just watching, like he couldn’t look away.

-

Later that day, the festival buzzed with excitement. Jungwon’s class had set up a photo booth, so he was off-duty and roaming when he found her again—this time at a quieter corner near the garden.

Jiwon was alone on a bench, a cup of strawberry milk in one hand and her phone in the other. Her canvas had come out beautifully—a dreamy pastel street scene with soft lines and floating petals.

“Hey,” he said, sitting beside her.

She looked up, a bit startled. “I thought you were working the hallway games?”

“Escaped,” he said. “I bribed Heeseung with bubble tea.”

Jiwon laughed. “And people say you’re the responsible one.”

He nudged her shoulder. “I have layers.”

A breeze passed, blowing strands of her hair into her face. Without thinking, Jungwon gently tucked one behind her ear. The motion was brief, but it made both of them freeze.

“Sorry,” he said softly, pulling back. “Was that okay?”

Jiwon didn’t move right away, then gave a small nod.

Silence settled over them—comfortable, but charged. The kind where a thousand words hover unspoken.

“I liked watching you paint,” Jungwon said quietly.

She looked at him. “Yeah?”

“You looked happy. Like... really yourself.”

She smiled. “I felt like myself today.”

“That’s good,” he murmured.

They sat like that, side by side, their arms just barely brushing.

Then the announcement speakers blared: “Last call for fireworks! Head to the soccer field in ten minutes!”

Jiwon stood, brushing crumbs off her skirt. “You going?”

Jungwon stood too. “Only if you are.”

They ended up walking side by side through the glittering festival lights, sugar-frosted churros in hand, their laughter light under the night sky.

As the first firework burst above them, Jiwon looked up, mesmerized—and Jungwon looked at her.

And in that one quiet moment beneath the stars, he didn’t think about jealousy or regret or secrets.

He just thought:

“Let me stay right here. Just one more minute.”

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