Title: The Art of Waiting
Pairing/s: Luda/Eunseo
Summary: (college!au) Lee Luda is an art student and her muse is none other than the university’s star athlete, Son Juyeon. A one-shot about Luda waiting for Juyeon to come back from a preliminary tournament.
A/N: Unbetaed because that's how I roll. WJHY? WJIC? WJU? Sue me. I was so close to naming it Cosmic U that I just left the university name blank. Featuring the older half of WJSN as student council members. Inspired by Eunseo’s running in ISAC. Congratulations to our dear Eunseo on her graduation!  (Next fic will be Seolbin)

Meet Lee Luda; one of the most esteemed personas in a private women’s university located in Jeju-do. She’s a Dean’s Lister ever since she started her first semester, and an exceptional artist with more than a dozen of her works displayed at the local art gallery. Even if she’s only a sophomore, she’s already rumored to be vying as the representative of the College of Arts & Design to the student council of the university.

Not every artist needs a muse but having one is a life-changer. Luda met hers not too long ago, a few weeks in the new semester, near the end of summer, a girl running around the school’s field as quick as lightning.

Son Juyeon; the ace of the school’s track team, the youngest sister of the legendary Son sisters who won regional and international meets one after another.

Her records surpassed her sisters’ when they were her age, an outstanding 53.44s in 400m. Last year, she bagged a bronze in the 400m run in the biannual IAAF World U20 Championships held in Poland, landing her a sweet spot in the country’s qualifying heat for the 2018 Asian Games.

She’s a rising star in the otherwise bleak environment of the country’s young athletes in the international field. A multitude of fans rally behind the hope she signifies.

Luda is proud of her more than anything.

It is searing that day but Luda sits on her usual spot, the middle of the topmost row in the otherwise vacant benches beside the university track field.

Watching Juyeon is part of her daily routine; a comfortable seat on folded knees, slim shoulders hunched over her sketchpad, a messy bun held by a pencil.

Light outline a moving silhouette, charcoal-stained fingers moving swiftly to capture the moment as Juyeon passes by her, a swift blur of white and red against the field’s green and dark terra cotta.

This continues for several more rounds. When she’s done, Juyeon exchanges a few words with her coach before she climbs up the benches, stopping on the row beneath Luda’s to give the shorter girl her much desired equality.

Luda opens her sketchpad, stretching her arms outwards on both sides, and shows her what she’s done.

Juyeon leans her face closer to the page and squints her eyes. “Where is my face? Why am I faceless?”

“I did a scenery of you running, not your portrait. Anyway, you did good.” Luda snaps her sketchpad shut and hands her a white towel, even if Juyeon already has a pink one around her neck.

Juyeon accepts it, as she has accepted all of her towels every morning and beams. “I did great. Coach says I’m at my peak.”

When Luda turns to gather her things, Juyeon grabs everything and stuffs them in Luda’s pencil case swiftly; charcoal sticks, charcoal pencils, kneaded erasers, a small sanding block, chamois and a small cutter.

Luda stares straight through her, clutching her sketchpad tight against her chest.

Juyeon massages Luda’s furrowed brows with her thumb and forefinger and laughs. “It’s bad to be this grumpy early in the morning.”

Luda reaches for her case, but Juyeon raises it high up in the air with her long limbs.

“Your hands are full. Can’t you notice that gigantic sketchpad of yours is twice your size?” Juyeon says.

Luda doesn’t even try reaching for it. She knows that she’ll be subjected to the other’s height jokes if she does. “You know I don’t just let anyone touch my art materials.”

“But I’m not just anyone. I’m your muse. And I didn’t decide that on my own, too.” Juyeon whistles, following Luda as she steps down the benches in careful steps. “Have you eaten yet? Wanna go to the cafeteria? I’m on a strict diet but I’d be full just watching you eat.”

“You’re so greasy.” Luda replies, wanting to leave the school grounds sooner because compared to Juyeon who’s in her zip jacket and joggers, she’s in her shorts and it’s getting hotter by the minute.

Juyeon catches up with long strides, wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her close. Luda wraps her free arm around the taller girl’s waist in return.

Luda suddenly remembers something and shoves Juyeon away, but not before they cross the open field.

“What’s wrong?” Juyeon asks.

“You ran several laps. You’re all sweaty!” Luda clears , somewhat confused. “You’re sweaty and disgusting.”

Juyeon tugs the collar of her zip jacket and leans down to sniff. “Oh? But I smell good.”

Luda would’ve said ‘Exactly.’ but the heat crept faster to her cheeks than words to her lips. Juyeon laughs at her silence and embraces her again. Luda doesn’t protest this time. She clutches her sketchpad and leans against her.

For an athlete, Juyeon always perspires and yet she manages to look… clean and fresh to a degree, as if it’s just cold water sticking on her skin and not actual sweat.

That and Juyeon smelled good. A small part of Luda thinks that it’s probably that expensive perfume of hers or maybe a magical lotion. A greater part of her believes Juyeon won the genetic lottery and is blessed that nothing will ever get in her way, not grime, not sweat, not anything.

Heck, Luda thinks Juyeon could spend a week in a landfill and come back as beautiful as ever. Hers is a timeless beauty, and Luda is convinced she’s the only artist in the university who sees it; if otherwise, she’d be someone else’s muse and not hers.

She wouldn’t have it any other way.

+

Juyeon is scheduled for an intense training of two weeks and another week of conditioning before the actual competition - a total of a month’s worth of absence. Luda thinks one month’s isn’t that long but they avoid talking about it if they can. It’s become a taboo and only becomes real when you speak of it.

Not until Juyeon begins packing bags before the day she flies to Seoul.

Luda suggested cutting all forms of communication because it’s very important that Juyeon needs to focus hard on her training if she wanted to make the cut, no matter how fast or how great her records are.

“That doesn’t make any sense. I need inspiration too, you know!” Juyeon says, louder than her normally loud voice.

“You have the attention span of a goldfish. What you need is focus, Juyeonie.”

“Why are you using the ‘Juyeonie’ card on me now? That’s cheating!”

“Stop whining. We both know how much you’ll regret it if you don’t give it your best.”

Juyeon doesn’t say anything after that, but it was clear that she detested the idea so much because she went on a full day with a sour mood. Luda argued one last time that it would ultimately help her, and she’ll still be here when she comes back.

“You will wait?”

Luda smiles. “Of course. I’ll wait. It’s just a month.”

“That’s thirty days.” Juyeon pouts.

“You’re just making it sound longer.” Luda pokes her cheek and repeats, “I’ll wait.”

That got Juyeon to agree to it, eventually.

No texts, no calls, no anything over their sns accounts until Juyeon gets back from Seoul.

The first few days without Juyeon were bearable. Half a week in, Luda had asked her best friend Dawon to hide her phone whenever possible because every waking moment feels like needs to have some form of communication.

In the weeks that followed, she started to become unfocused. Her mood swings have become rampant (though perhaps she’s overthinking it). Holding a brush feels odd to a degree, the colors swirl in the wrong direction and her paintings stopped looking as lively as before.

Luda never thought something as simple as waiting could be the hardest thing she’s ever done.

+

The clock strikes five. She looks out the wide glass windows of the art studio. Above, a flock of birds take off atop the nearby bell tower. Below, the track and field start their tryouts and gymnasts perform their routines on the school grounds.

The sunset has been sitting on her canvas for three hours now. She’s not done yet. Not quite. There’s something amiss among the brilliance of colors, a gaping void where emotion should be.

Luda frowns. The blandness of her work doesn’t surprise her anymore. The grimace that settles on her lips only encourages the frustration gnawing at each of her brush.

Even her art teacher, who had nothing but praises, doesn’t say a word. She sees her teacher’s expression livid with disappointment when she finally decides to leave after reminding her not to stay too late and clean up.

Luda wipes the stains of acrylic off her wrists and the back of her hands a little too hard. When she turns to gather her things she sees Dawon by the doorway, arms-crossed, staring at the canvas by the window and everything that’s wrong with it.

“I know what you’re going to say.” Luda says as she resumes stuffing her belongings in her bag. If Juyeon were here she would’ve been done a minute ago. “Don’t.”

“As I’ve told you a lot of times before,” Dawon hesitates for a moment. “Maybe you need to find some other source of inspiration. Or call her, maybe? I know you both agreed to cut all forms of communication but--”

Luda marches past her and locks the door to the art studio with knitted eyebrows.

“I’m just saying it could help you more than you think.” Dawon jogs to catch up. “You haven’t seen or talked to each other in weeks and clearly this isn’t doing you any good.”

“I’m just feeling under the weather. I’m going to-”

Dawon frowns. “To hang out on the rooftop again. I know. But that doesn’t work anymore, does it?”

Luda speeds up, skipping down the stairs two steps at a time because the truth is slipping under her skin. As much as she hates to admit, she misses Juyeon and her absence stings more than ever.

+

Luda spends the late night on the dormitory rooftop after dinner. The bustling cityscape brings form to her ideas, whether it be daybreak, nighttime or high noon. It’s the gentle breeze caressing her face, the bright lights of Jeju, the sprawling urban growth beneath the mat of stars of the purple-tinted sky.

Yet, it’s not enough. Everything feels like a blur. A worn pencil hovers above a blank page of her sketchbook, unsure and unmotivated.

Luda wonders if she outgrew her fascination for the growing metropolitan and its sunsets or if she’s only enthused by it because Juyeon was the one who introduced it to her in the first place.

It’s Juyeon’s loud laughter against the white noise of the rush-hours, Juyeon’s hand, tightly around hers, Juyeon’s ticklish breath against her cheeks and neck when she teases her playfully, and all the kinds of shivers that run down her spine that make every place magical.

The past few weeks without her has Luda drowning in the inevitable anathema of losing her muse.

How long has it been? Two weeks? Three?

She wonders if Juyeon ever feels the same loneliness that embraces her every night.

She offered Juyeon nothing but company when she asked her to be her muse. There’s nothing for Juyeon in it, no free food, coupons or even the guarantee of a good company. Juyeon is everything Luda isn’t; extroverted, active, excitable, tall, the list goes on.

In fact, sometimes Luda couldn’t help but think of herself a hindrance to the rising super-athlete. The time Juyeon spends with her should be used for her training; she has massive potential no one can deny and she’s healthy, above all, the perfect combination for success.

Luda or no Luda, Juyeon would continue to thrive. But without Juyeon, Luda wouldn’t. Not without her muse.

She returns to the dormitories when the breeze gets too cold, hands clean and sketchbook empty. She greets Dawon, who’s also her roommate, with less enthusiasm and stacks her pencils on the desk.

“I thought the student council’s keeping you busy?”

“It is, but I finished my work early. Jiyeon unnie said the president gave everyone a mouthful because the request for the special coverage for Juyeon’s match almost didn’t went through.” Dawon runs through the channels of the flatscreen embedded on the wall across the room, remote in hand and wrapped in blankets. “But we got everything covered. Don’t stress yourself too much about it.”

“I trust you too much to be worried over something like that.”

“Thank you. We’re doing our best. So, were you able to draw anything?”

Luda shakes her head and flops herself on her bed. She sighs into her pillow and allows herself to melt into the mattress after checking her phone for messages for the last time.

“Nothing.”

Tomorrow, she’ll be better. Hopefully.

A few seconds in mid-slumber and Dawon is already shaking her shoulders. Luda mumbles something unintelligible before Dawon covers and points to the television.

“They’re doing a quick feature on the athletes competing in the next week’s preliminaries. Look!”

Luda sits up and stares, wide-eyed, rubbing the sleep off her eyes because there she is; Juyeon in her standard white and red zip jacket emblazoned with the school logo, her dark hair tied in a ponytail, unmistakable with her high-bridged nose and superior cheekbones. She stands against an empty track under a bright sunless sky (which also means that it’s not a live recording), smiling confidently while the reporter poses her question.

“...It’s the preliminary round and you’re up against tough competition. You’re one of the youngest and it’s inevitable that your performance might be affected by your sisters’ past records. The pressure must be intense. How are you feeling, Juyeon-ssi?”

Juyeon beams in a heartbeat and looks at the camera. “My coach and school train their athletes very well. My sisters are also very supportive and gave me pointers. I’m feeling confident.”

Luda grabs the biggest Pokemon plushie on the corner of her bed and hugs it tight, smiling with her muse on the screen.

“We’ve received reports that you’re gaining popularity fast not only in the city but in the region as well.” The interviewer continues. “I take it you have a growing number of followers. Do you have anything to say to the people waiting for you back home?”

“Well, she is pretty.” Dawon comments. Luda clears instinctively.

Juyeon’s eyebrow perks and her gaze averts from the center of the camera. It’s a known fact that she is most comfortable under the spotlight, whether she’s in the middle of a crowd or in the field. Her sudden uneasiness is suspicious and Luda doesn’t miss it; she tries not to miss anything about Juyeon no matter how small.

Juyeon looks back at the camera before the reporter could ask her again, the wide confident smile back on her face.

“I know you’re cheering me on. Thank you. Wait for me. I won’t disappoint you.”

The segment fades to another young athlete’s interview, Choi Yuna, from the nearby university.

Luda thanks Dawon, who gives her a thumbs up in return as she continues to watch the segment, before covering herself with blankets.

She’s reminded why Juyeon is her muse, and it’s a choice she’ll stick with through the end.

+