in this space (with you)

::

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::

all the pretty girls

in the world

but i’m in this

space with you

honey; kehlani

::

wheerene. perfectionist art major wheein struggles with putting people on canvas or paper. irene happens to share her library table. wheein has no problem sketching her.

::

“It was not a meet-cute.”

Hyejin scoffs, pointing an offending french fry near Wheein’s nose. “Except it totally is.”

Just as Wheein’s about to whine for what seems like the hundredth time tonight, a hand rests against her thigh, squeezing lightly. She turns her head just enough to see an amused smile, the hand moving on to drawing patterns on the denim.

Wheein melts against the sticky vinyl seat, a blush overpowering her pout when a kiss is pressed against her cheek.

“It was not a meet-cute,” she whispers this time, the woman beside her just shaking her head.

“Sure, whatever you say.”

::

Here’s how the not meet-cute story starts:

Her professor’s late.

It’s like a golden rule that if a professor’s late by at least half an hour, students are technically allowed to skip that class. And to make matters worse, this is their last class for the week.

But Wheein, in her two years in university, never cashed in that rule. Because what if he shows up? Then instead of hearing the project details in person, Wheein will have to wait for the class email, and what if she has questions? She’ll have to wait for the professor to wade through his numerous emails before reaching hers and—yeah.

She’d rather not spend a day or two marinating in anxiety.

He arrives just before the first hour of their six-hour period ends.

Quick footsteps echo down the hallway and Mr. Choi bursts in. For someone who has a master’s degree in fine arts, he sure doesn’t know the concept of complementary colors for his outfit, half of the class avoiding his general direction until the bright neon green of his shirt becomes a little bit more tolerable.

Wheein tears up a little.

She minimizes the file transfer window on her laptop, making a mental note to pick up a new storage disk as she eyes the thin line of the disk space as it jumps from blue to red, giving the room a quick scan as she reaches out for her sketchbook.

The professor’s a flurry of apologies and a dumped messenger bag on someone’s desk as he writes down hurriedly on the board.

Hyperrealism.

She routinely checks their course outline—something Hyejin likes to give her for—but Wheein likes to be ready.

“—the difference is in what you want the viewers to see.”

Wheein’s got a tongue stuck out, filling in the shades of the Photorealism VS Hyperrealism on top of a blank page, scrawling in messy bullet points of their main differences like how hyperrealism is just photorealism’s Gen Z baby—obsessive in small details, obscured big picture, and political passive-aggressiveness.

Her professor’s words, not hers.

He croons on about the importance of emotions, lights, and shadows, the scent of deeply-rooted acrylic in their classroom tickling at Wheein’s nose. She holds in her sneeze, jotting down more of her professor’s points as he paces in front of the class.

She likes the guy, he’s one of the best, but everyone in their class knows that he’s half-assing the instructions because it’s a long weekend and he’s got a getaway planned for him and his wife at some fancy resort. Yes, they know. He likes to blabber to fill during their long periods.

She loses focus for a bit, eyes trained at the back of a classmate’s head as she creates a vision of what she can do with his ambiguous instructions.

Light and shadow… so maybe something with either sunrise or sunset? Sunsets are hard to catch these days so a morning shoot will be the best bet. As for the subject…

Cold dread drips down Wheein’s back, straightening her spine in hopes the phantom feeling doesn’t settle at the pit of her stomach.

It does anyway, Wheein already biting lightly at her lip as the possibility that her mind’s already forming an idea for a portrait.

“,” she panics, words directed at the page halfway-filled with notes. “It’s cool, you haven’t even started yet, Jung. You can still change it.”

She hates portraits.

Wheein knows she’s a good artist but ing portraits always bring out the worst of her insecurities.

And yet—

She can see it in her mind’s eye. Hyperrealism.

Wheein taps her pencil aggressively against the back of her hand, already hating her mind but also relieved that well, at least I have an idea, now.

Someone in her class asks a question and Wheein jolts back into the present.

“Go crazy,” he says as he twirls a paintbrush in between his thumb and forefinger, singing lights and shadows as he surveys the room, then dismissed the class early for the weekend. “Next meeting is the deadline.”

That gives her five days.

And so it begins.

::

There’s this thing with Wheein that if there’s something specific she wants to do, she will think that every other idea isn’t good enough.

Better Half [7:02 PM]

hey

Allergic Half [7:04 PM]

ye

Better Half [7:05 PM]

model needed

Allergic Half [7:07 PM]

group thing or nah?

Wheein flushes, remembers the last time she asked Hyejin to model for their anatomy study, and accidentally forgot to mention that it was a group study; Hyejin suffered and got hit on by at least five people before the class is done.

Wheein had to buy Hyejin dinner a week straight after that along with a pinky promise to never utter her name in the art department again.

Better Half [7:07 PM]

just me this time, swear

Allergic Half [7:09 PM]

better be, jung.

when?

Better Half [7:09 PM]

tomorrow?

Allergic Half [7:10 PM]

got exams for the next two days

Hyejin always models for her for both familiarity and efficiency when she feels like she needs to paint a person. Hyejin’s safe, familiar, and she’s spent countless hours of their childhood drawing the other woman only because Hyejin always annoys her until she gives in.

Wheein stops walking, kicks a random pebble as she does the math. Three days should be enough for her to finish.

Better Half [7:13 PM]

kk

after, then

::

Nothing’s going according to plan.

Wheein slept in.

She woke up disoriented and with a sinking feeling in her stomach when the morning light was already streaming in her loft apartment. The clock says it’s a few minutes past nine, missing her proposed early morning shoot for that early sunrise lighting.

But looking outside—

The weather’s overcast.

Thick clouds stretching for miles with the promise of a heavy downpour for the next few days. Wheein curses under her breath, shrugging on a thick hoodie. Even if she did wake up on time, there’s no way that clouds these thick weren’t there three hours earlier.

Thankfully, she left her phone plugged in, the notifications for the missed alarms go ignored as she refreshes her phone screen and—

She’s been dumped.

Maybe.

Wheein’s still not sure about that one.

She’s standing outside of Hyejin’s dorm—under her best friend’s fifth-story window, to be exact—pouting and hopes that if she mopes, their weird best friend telepathy will work and Hyejin’s ridiculous bedhead will pop out the window.

They used it during a particularly intense game of Mafia last week, so Wheein’s confident it’ll work.

Thunder rolls, Wheein anxiously biting her lip as she pulls up their conversation and seriously debating whether to pick up the rock that’s been digging on the bottom of her right shoe into her best friend’s window.

She looks down at her phone.

Allergic Half [3:26 AM]

just a heads up

but we’re a season deep

with the new show kei’s been wanting to watch

i’m setting alarms tho

multiple ones !!

[Allergic Half sent a photo]

proof :D

but also sorry

just in case i dont wake up on time

Better Half [9:08 AM]

okay jwu

Better Half [9:34 AM]

still asleep?

otw to ur dorm

pls be awake

Better Half [9:55 AM]

Wheein can’t blame her best friend, though, knowing that Hyejin has an intense crush on her roommate and hilarious inability to say no to Kei. Wheein can understand.

She’ll understand when she’s not on the verge of a panic attack because holy , she’s only got three days left and with the current weather, it’ll take at least two days for her new piece to dry.

And just when she thinks it won’t get any worse—

It starts raining.

Wheein runs.

::

Her hoodie took most of the hit, making her scrunch her nose when the wet fabric sticks to the back of her neck. The library’s the closest building to Hyejin’s dorm, Wheein deciding that she can just brainstorm in a new environment.

With that in mind, she starts marching towards the elevator and to the Korean History section on the fourth floor. Normally, no one stays there, the scent of old books that haven’t been opened in at least five years enough of a deterrent for most students, but with the finals coming up, Wheein finds a few tables jammed with different study groups and the enviable scent of coffee wafting from different tumblers.

She picks a table at the far back, a large window shining its gloomy morning light and a perfect view for the pelting rain.

Wheein goes through the motion of peeling her hoodie from her skin, hanging it on the back of the chair beside her where her backpack sits. She takes out her laptop first, then routinely checks her camera just in case something happened in the short while from her apartment to Hyejin’s dorm to the library.

Breathing in once, twice, Wheein settles in her seat.

And lets the anxiety roll through her body like waves to the shore.

::

She’s scrolling Pinterest boards and Tumblr dashboards on one side of her screen and flicking through different shoots on the other. Most of the shoots she has of people are in a studio, modified lighting to get the best out of the models. Wheein doesn’t want those.

She needs something real.

Her phone’s been quiet for the past hour since she sat down but the hushed conversation in the library is steadily increasing by the minute; mind in a weird limbo of wishing the next pair of students doesn’t sit down on her mostly empty table that can seat six people easily and offended that no one’s sparing her table a second glance.

“You’re being weird,” Wheein mumbles to herself, hunches more in her seat, turning her laptop screen away from the aisle in case someone’s been watching her squint at Hyejin’s begrudgingly similar photos.

Maybe it’s time for a break.

Joints popping at a stretch, she minimizes everything, then pulls up another browser, typing in pen twirling tutorial.

It’s completely random yet it wormed its way at the forefront of Wheein’s brain a few minutes ago as she stares at another picture of a model shoot earlier in the semester. A boy was holding a pen and it wasn’t quite captured in her camera settings at that time, too fast and hovering mid-air like magic.

She spreads her still-damp hoodie under the span of her elbow to her hand after the third loud fall of her pencil on the hardwood table, not wanting to draw annoyed looks.

It is not a meet-cute.

And yet—

Wheein feels hot blush rising on her cheeks as the pen twirls too hard on the back of her thumb, momentarily distracted by the approaching figure to properly calculate how much force should be on the twirl. It falls noisily on the tiled floor.

The woman smiles, a pretty indent on her bottom lip apparent as she holds in her laughter.

There’s also a voice in her head that’s teasi