#and then realised i'm supposed to be enjoying the art of crafting and playing around withing this world i created and my characters

[encrucijada]

realised i'm supposed to be having fun while writing. i will learn nothing of this experience

[divinekangaroo]

I've been reluctant to start my second-and-a-half PB re-watch (Half of S1, all S5 and all S6 would be 3 times, and the rest would be the second time) because of the velvet goldmine effect:

Which was:

So, I see Velvet Goldmine when I'm 15 years old and 9 months and it absolutely changes my brain. So many things click into place. One of those moments. And it's not like the hints and edges and burrs weren't there, but it Did Something. Pivotal. I cradled it to me repeatedly, over and over. Look at this, I think, look at what it's existence means for me: it means, it means, it just means something; it exists and therefore I can, too. But given my locale, I never had any ability to talk to anyone, engage with anyone about it, I had to cradle All That to myself quietly in the dark.

Then I watch it again when I'm....mid 20s? and I think: this movie is about nothing. It's about nothing. It's about ennui. It's meaningless. It has all the substance of fairy floss. It's rubbish. My visceral reaction to it's ennui and nihilism and whimsical flights of fancy were huge; my disgust for it was as desperate and meaningful as my original reaction, and I ranted about this movie's hollow heart for a long, long time.

And then I watch it again when I'm somewhere in my 30s and went: meh. Forgettable. Dunno what either fuss was about.

I suppose I just don't want that to happen to PB yet?

(I mean, the other barrier to starting again is that S1 repulsed me multiple times. I switched my brain off off at the fight with the Lees the first time around, the stupid pretentious Cool of it all, I thought (ahahaha) that I knew exactly what this show was and was trying to be at that point, only to realise, eh, I was wrong: what a bait and switch; but I also don't want to lose the delight of realising, on that 2nd full and proper re-watch, the interesting nature of the trope, narrative and character deconstruction playing out.)

<<The alternative effect is what I call the WOT-Spoilers effect. So I read Wheel of Time as and when it all comes out; I'm relatively young when it starts and moderately adult when it finishes. I enjoy it but on a surface level. I enjoy it's scope and the ability for something of such a large scope and depth to enable me to shut out reality. I never really engage with it and it doesn't resonate. It was...fodder. But then, in my late 30s, I come across the podcast WOT-Spoilers. These guys *LOVE* these books, but on a deeply respectful level for the structural art and craft in them. Listening to them talk about every single chapter gives me far more pleasure than attempting to re-read WOT at all. The ego-less engagement with the source material makes me marvel. The level of respect I develop for these books enters a very different realm. But I will, and I know this deeply, never re-read these books again.>>

[eremin0109]

Okay but a romantic musical drama where Tarak plays a celebrated kuchipudi dancer who is very territorial about his art while Charan is a popular method actor who has to embody the role of a classical dancer for his next film.

The director offers to switch Charan's character for a body double during the dance sequences but he flat out refuses, determined to learn the dance form himself. The director is apprehensive as the film shooting is scheduled after three months and that's nearly not enough time for ANYONE (let alone someone like Charan who has no background in classical dancing) to learn a completely new dance form and play a character who's supposed to a be a distinguished Kuchipudi artist. But Charan being the stubborn perfectionist he is, asks the director to recommend someone who can teach him the craft in minimal time.

Cue a small timeskip and then Tarak's entry (with a glorious Kuchipudi performance of course). After the end of the performance we get to know that one of the audience members is Charan(in disguise obviously) who was as mesmerized by the absolutely breathtaking act as the rest of them. He's found his mentor.

So in classic Tollywood fashion, he sneaks in to the backstage to try and get ahold of the man to ask him for help. A pretty straightforward plan. However the twist comes in when he realises that Tarak has no idea who Charan is. That and the fact that he absolutely despises anyone that's associated with the film industry.

And so Charan doesn't reveal his identity, pretends to be a fan and tries all ways to Sunday to get Tarak to be his teacher. Eventually, amused by all the shenanigans that Charan pulls just to get his attention, Tarak slowly warms up to him and finally accepts the proposal. They begin their daily practices near a riverside temple, spending more than seven hours together. Slowly, but steadily, amidst all the excruciating dance routines under Tarak's strict supervision that Charan has to go through, they start developing feelings for each other.

Tarak starts becoming more lenient on Charan, and Charan starts making mistakes on purpose just so that Tarak would come near him, put his fingers on his hands or waist or chin and correct his posture. They blush around each other for no apparent reasons and spend the nights after the practice just dipping their legs in the river, silently enjoying each other's company.

One of those nights Tarak tells him about his traumatic past which is the reason why he hates the industry with such fervour. The colour drains down Charan's face, because he was going to tell him the truth tonight. He doesn't. Even when Tarak's fingers entangle with his, he's too distracted to reciprocate.

Soon the shooting starts and Charan doesn't find the time to visit Tarak as often as he did before. Everytime they meet he gives some new excuse about why he was late or why he couldn't answer back his calls. This goes on for a couple months until Tarak's patience finally runs out. In a fit of frustration he confronts Charan and before he could think better, the words come hurriedly out of his mouth.

"If you don't like me just say it to my face! Why do you keep lying to me?"

Charan is completed flabbergasted. He doesn't know what to say to that. There are many things he wants to say. "I'm head over heels in love with you, bastard!" "That's not the only thing I lied to you about, please let me explain everything." "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sor--"

That's when Tarak's phone pings. One of his former co-dancer friends had sent him the trailer of Charan's new film, gushing about how the dance style of the actor looked strikingly similar to his.

Charan had completely forgotten that today was the trailer launch of his film.

His heart drops. He gulps and immediately looks up at Tarak but it's too late. He's gone. He's nowhere to be seen and Charan breaks out of his stupor. He calls out to him, over and over again, but to no avail. He looks for him around the area but he's not here. He tries to call him but Tarak doesn't pick up.

They were done.

Or are they? We find out in the last act of the film whether these two find a way to mend their broken relationship (or even start anew) or not.

[yyxgin]

🌃 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 || 𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐣𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠

☆ han jisung x fem! reader ☆

☆ GENRE: college au, best friends to lovers au, fluff

☆ SUMMARY: There’s only one thing that can help your stressed out mind when you have a week left to finish the most important assignment for your art class of them all, and that is the honey voice of your best friend. What a shame he’s too shy to sing sometimes.

☆ WORDS: 5k 

☆ WARNINGS: swearing and that is it me thinks

You hear the silent melody coming from your best friend sitting on the other side of the couch, quiet hums gradually flowing into coherent words as he mindlessly scrolls through social media on his phone, his low singing filling your empty living room as you take your eyes off your phone and watch him. 

He looks casual, just like always. The army-green hoodie looks about two times his size enveloping his body, the hood thrown over his head to hide his messy hair, sweatpants hiding a little bit of his foot as well as if to make him look extra tiny today. The song coming out of his mouth sounds similar, yet it still sounds new to you when you catch him randomly singing during the day on times when he forgets he doesn't want anyone to hear.

"It cannot wait, I'm yours-" his head snaps up to meet your eyes, immediately shutting up and looking back to his phone screen. 

"No, why'd you stop?" you whine, pouting. His voice is good. Too good, for never getting singing lessons and basically not even trying while he sings. 

"'Cause it sounds bad," he mutters, furrowing his brows.

"It doesn't." you firmly say, desperate to make your best friend believe your words in order to hear him sing more often. For some reason, his singing always managed to bring a sense of comfort into your heart. It felt like the sunlight shining at you in the cold days of winter, sweet and soothing for your freezing heart.

"Yeah, right," his cheeks flash pink, rolling his eyes. 

"You hear me singing all the time and I sound like a dying racoon, I really don't understand why you're so shy about it when you sound like angels coming down to earth to bless us all," you giggle, poking his sides.

He laughs softly at your compliment, shaking his head. This was how it usually went. 

He started singing out of the blue, you stopped everything you were doing just to listen to him, then he realised you became too quiet and stopped in the very second. 

"I wish you sang more. I like your voice," you point out, watching him flash an even deeper shade of pink as he shyly giggles at your confession.

"Sorry to break it to you, but I won't," he shakes his head in disapproval. It annoyed you, how he just never seemed to believe your words.

"But why? You never believe me when I tell you you sound good," you pout, furrowing your eyebrows and throwing your fists in the air in a sense of frustration.

"And that, my dear, is called not believing in yourself." he giggles, making you roll your eyes. 

"I don't get it," you sigh, standing up and moving to the kitchen, "anyways, I am on my way to paint the rest of the assignment I have for my art class, so if you don't want to sing me something, at least put some music on," you yell white putting your empty mug into the sink.

As you walk back to the living room with your art supplies you managed to snatch from the desk where you put them before, you hear the familiar sound of your bluetooth speaker turning on, making you sigh. And that's for your daily dose of Han Jisung's singing. You sit cross-legged at the ground, taking your paint brushes into your hand, hearing the song he decided to put on playing from the speaker. You recognise it being the one he was humming to himself just a few minutes ago, smiling.

"What is the theme anyway?" he asks, genuinely curious.

"Nature," you roll your eyes, not really interested in painting trees the tiniest bit, but having to do it anyway, because you can’t just paint whatever you want and get away with it in your art class.

"So like, trees and stuff?" he teases you, knowing damn well how much you don't like the particular assignment in the first place.

"Trees, mountains, butterflies…" you ironically smile, blobbing a whole lot of green paint onto your palette, grunting, "and I wanted to be chosen for the showcase this year, but I guess we'll have to wait until the theme is not about rocks and rivers." you scoff.

"Oh please, you'll do great anyway," encourages you Jisung, "you can paint well even if it's just trees and mountains." 

"I'm not Bob Ross, Jisung." you mutter, hating the way the green paint looks on the canvas in the first place.

"Yes you are," he giggles, "you paint just like him." 

"Tells me the one who sounds like Mariah Carey but tries to act like he can't sing," you tease back, enjoying the way his eyebrows furrow at your comment.

"I can't do whistle notes yet," he smirks.

The car rides with Jisung were probably your most favorite. It wasn't for the fact that he doesn't drive too fast like most of your friends do, since as he said, he doesn't trust himself to slow down if he strats, but truth be told, that was also one of the reasons. But the main reason is, that you always get to hear him singing along to the radio, even if it's kind of difficult to hear over the loud music and the original singer. That doesn’t matter, though, because even the tiniest sign of him singing around you made you happy. 

He doesn't seem to care as he yells the words to Riptide by Vance Joy on the top of his lungs, sounding like the song belongs to him, parking the car in the almost empty parking lot at Michael's craft store.

"No problem. What even happened, anyway?" he furrows his brows at you, confused on why you suddenly hit him up out of the blue in the evening as you swore on your life you couldn't hang out because you have to finish that disgusting assignment for your art class.

"Thanks." you smile at him as you ubuckle your seat-belt and open the door to his car. 

"I fucked up on the painting and now I need to buy some new canvases," you grunt, rolling your eyes, "and green paint. A whole lot of green paint." 

He snickers a little as he walks by your side, quickly turning around to lock his car and bringing his attention back to you, "I am sure it wasn't even that bad in the first place and you're just over-reacting." 

"Yes it was, Jisung, you didn't see the disaster that painting became. I wanted to paint a bear and it looked like a degenerated pine tree." you blurb out, frustrated, as you take the shopping cart to your hands only for it to be snatched by the hands of your best friend helping you.

"Well, you could always say you wanted to be a little abstract," he grins at you.

"Yeah, sure. Miss Kim would absolutely kill me and I wouldn't get to the showcase this year again. Why am I majoring in art in the first place when I can't even get to the school's art showcase? That prick Minho got in three times already and he said he doesn't even like art in the first place!" you say, gritting your teeth.

"Why is he majoring in art, then?" asks Jisung, confused.

"Because he wanted a degree and he said it was the easiest major to pick," you roll your eyes. 

"Well, I mean that is kind of smart, I should have picked that instead of business-" 

"Jisung, you can't draw." you laugh.

"And? We were all born to express, not to impress," he waves his arms in the air, grinning. You laugh at his expression, facepalming as you reach for three containers of green paint from the counter and throwing it into the cart.

"If this is not enough of green paint, I swear to god I will kick something-" 

"Hey! Peace. Think of the pigeons. Rainbows. Sunshine," he recitates, motioning you to breathe deeply to calm down your nerves, giggling in the process.

"Fuck the pigeons! I tried to paint one yesterday and it turned into a fucking rock in the air!" you throw a fit, making him shush you as a few people turn around to see your distressed state.

"Calm down, woman," he says, putting an arm on your back, gently pushing you to the cashier, "it's just a painting. You'll do great, don't worry. You're just stressing too much." 

You grunt as you see another ruined canvas, throwing the brush onto the ground, muttering a quiet swear as you notice the paint on the floor, quickly taking a tissue and wiping it off.

"What's gotten into you? It's okay," sweetly says Jisung, once again sitting at your sofa and watching over you as you try to paint your assignment again. 

"It looks bad! Just look at it! I have a week left and I already ruined three canvases, at this rate, I won't be able to even finish it, I can only dream of getting to the showcase," you mourn, throwing yourself to the ground and hiding your face in your hands.

"You just have to take it easy, you're pressuring yourself too much-" 

"I've heard that already." you cut him off, growling. 

You lay there for a while, breathing heavily, collecting your thoughts. Once you manage to calm down, you sit up and look at your best friend watching over you on the sofa, sighing. "I'm sorry. I'm just stressed out. I didn't mean to snap at you." 

"It's okay." he nods, seeing you taking the brush into your hand again and trying to fix the blob of paint that was supposed to look like a squirrel, much reminding you of your dear best friend sitting next to you. 

You feel a gentle grip on your hand after a few seconds, taking the brush out of it and putting it to the table. You furrow your brows and look at him, confused on why he is suddenly stopping you from your work, the contact of his skin on yours surprising you a little.

"We're done with painting today." he sternly says, stopping you.

"Ji, I have a week left to-" 

"That's a lot of time! Stand up, we're having a karaoke night." he grins at you, pulling you up to your feet, as he takes his phone laying on the sofa into his hands and connects it to the bluetooth speaker.

"I have no time to have a karaoke night Jisung, what even is that-" 

"Pick a song. Any song. We're about to sing our hearts out tonight and my mission won't be considered successful until your neighbours come to complain," he grins, giving the phone into your hand with his spotify app open already. 

You look at him dead serious for a moment before sighing and looking through his embarrassingly long spotify playlist called ‘bops only’. "Fine," you sigh, "but just this once. And if they call the police on us, you're paying the fine for disturbing the silent hours." 

"I didn't say anything about that-" 

"Blah blah blah, I can't hear you!" you giggle, putting on I will survive by Gloria Gaynor on full volume to cut him off, throwing the phone back onto the sofa as you prepare for your singing solo.

You sneak your arms around his neck, dancing and laughing in the process as you loudly scream the lyrics into his face. He smiles at the sight, content with the fact that he managed to cheer you up so quickly, putting his arms on your hips as he jumps up and down, joining you in singing once the song hits the chorus. 

And just this once, as his arms steadily hold your body and you throw a tantrum in your living room, he doesn't even care that you hear him sing as he knows you like to hear his voice. Maybe, just maybe, that was the reason why he suggested a karaoke night to cheer you up in the first place anyway.

"What do you mean you're not gonna be here on my birthday?" you pout from the ground, focused on the canvas right in front of you. 

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? But my mum really needs me to come help her with the atic, and you know how she gets when I refuse to come home at least once a month even though I constantly tell her I don't have the time to travel for 45 minutes just so she can see my face once in a while…" sighs Jisung, laying on your sofa so his head is now facing the same way yours does, and that is, your half-empty canvas.

"I know, I know. But does it really have to be on my birthday? You're going to be away for three days, and the showcase is on Friday…" you mumble, "if I get there, of course." you sigh.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, sounding genuinely concerned. It was currently Monday and your birthday was on Thursday, which meant you had four days to finish your art piece to submit it on the exact day of your birthday to see if your teacher accepts it for the showcase of the following day. And you're not even halfway done with your work! To be exact, you feel like you're gonna fail and to not have your best friend by your side to help you through your stress, you truly feel like you'll go insane.

"I know," you sigh, "it's okay. I guess I'll just… manage, somehow." you scoff.

"You can always celebrate with that friend from your art class, and we'll celebrate together on Saturday, when I come back. What was that kid's name again?" he furrows his brows at you, turning your way to see your focused face.

"You mean Hyunjin? No, thank you. He'd just want me to get drunk and I really don't need that the day before the showcase," you mumble, painting the leaves of the tree carefully, focusing on every single detail. Jisung always adored your talent. Everything you ever drew was a masterpiece in his eyes. He even kept the notes you gave to him in high school once when he was sick and you managed to take notes for him as well when you shared a Chemistry class, sneaking a few doodles on the sides when you got bored of listening to the teacher, "but that will come handy when I don't get in again, so I'll consider it." you roll your eyes.

"You will get in." he reassures you again, finding your eyes.

"I doubt that," you bitterly laugh. 

"Ugh, stop that already," he grunts, focusing on the canvas again, feeling relaxed just at watching you do your magic, but you throw the paintbrush on the table again at that exact moment and run your hands through your hair in frustration.

"What?" 

"It looks like shit. Again." you exclaim. 

His eyes go wide at the sentence, disbelief washing over him. Did you really think that?

"What the fuck? It doesn't! It looks amazing, trust me," he says, reaching his arms to you, taking you by the shoulder from his position on the sofa.

"I am so stressed Jisung, I feel like I'm about to go insane." you whisper, sighing.

You don't have to say more for Jisung to stand up from his position on the sofa only to sit on the ground behind you, sneaking his arms around your middle and bringing you close to him, gently rocking you in your position on the floor. You feel his nose nuzzling into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent as he quickly pecks your cheek and settles his head back onto your shoulder.

You hear him softly singing into your ear, the words filling your insides with gold as his voice feels like honey, calming you down from the storm happening inside of you like a brim of light. 

"And I see colors in a different way, you make what doesn't matter fade to grey, life is good and that's the way it should be," he sings softly, a wide smile appearing on your features with every next word.

His voice calms your nerves as you slowly relax in his hold, your bodies gently rocking to the rhythm of the song as it slowly ends and his voice grows quieter. 

He hated singing in front of people. 

But to see you smile, he would go as far as overcoming his biggest fears. Because when you need him, he will always be there.

"Jisung, I have no time for this, I already told you I need to finish the assignment-" you mumble as you sit in his car, his smiling face looking at you from the driver's seat.

"I'm leaving tomorrow morning and I can't have you painting for more than an hour today because I feel like you'll break down if you do, so let's go. And you're already in the car, so there's no escape anyway." he explains, waiting for you to buckle in your seatbelt.

You just sigh and look out the window, biting down on your lip. If he keeps distracting you this much, you'll never finish the assignment.

You hear him softly singing along with the radio, careful not to disturb him in fear of making him stop, smiling to yourself as you let him drive you to an unfamiliar place in the middle of the night. You count the lampposts, the habit you grew to have since you were little, before they disappear and you're on a road shadowed by tall trees, the headlights of Jisung's car being the only thing illuminating the road. 

You recognise you're going up a hill, looking over at him, seeing him focused on the road.

As you reach the top, Jisung stops the car and gets out, you follow him as he waits for you by the door to the passenger’s side. 

As soon as you look around, you're amazed by the sight in front of you. You have a view of the city far, far away in the distance as you see the dell illuminated by the subtle glow of the moon sitting up in the starry sky. You watch the sight with an open mouth, awe washing over you as you just can't keep your eyes off the landscape in front of you.

"Wow," you breathe out.

You feel his hand gripping yours as he leads you to the edge of the hill, sitting at the giant rock there, pulling you down next to him as you watch the nature breathe in front of you. His hand doesn't leave yours as he speaks up after a while.

"You like it?" he asks, quiet enough to not disturb the atmosphere.

"Yeah," you whisper. You see him moving closer to you from the corner of your eye, his head leaning on your shoulder as he enjoys your presence.

"I wanted to show you this before I go, so you have a moment to breathe for a second before you throw yourself into the stress again," he mumbles, gently playing with the fingers of your hand.

"Thank you," you speak, breathing in the chilly air of the forest.

You stay like that for a while, just gazing over the beauty of it all, making you feel like the time stopped for the two of you only as you enjoy the seconds that pass. The full moon watches over the two of you, captivating you as you look at it with a feeling of delight. You hear his gentle voice in your ear again, singing softly and beautifully, sounding magical at the top of the hill, once again filling your ears with melody as your insides tingle. 

"Fly me to the moon, let me play among the stars, and let me see what spring is like on a-Jupiter and Mars," he sings, voice tender and sweet, slowing down the tempo of the song on purpose.

"In other words, baby, kiss me," he sings softly, voice fading as his eyes move to your lips, the silence of the hill and the light breeze tickling your skin.

You feel your eyes wandering to his lips, nervously licking yours in the process. You see him hesitantly move closer to you, stopping halfway to see if you pull away, taking his other hand and resting it on your cheek. His breath fans your face as he moves even closer, nudging your nose with his, eyes gazing to yours, your trembling fingers squeezing his hand as if to tell him to go ahead, fluttering your eyelids close.

Once the moment finally comes and his shy lips press to yours, you feel yourself responding immediately, moving with him as the familiar feeling of the sun in your stomach greets you with full force, your other hand going up to rest on his neck. 

When he pulls away and rests his forehead against yours, you can't help but smile. His soft giggle fills your ears like music, your lips meeting his in a soft, quick peck in the instance.

"In other words, hold my hand," he continues, softly squeezing your hand resting in his lap, making you look at him, locking your eyes with his as he stares at you, gaze full of stars.

Han Jisung's always been your best friend. But perhaps tonight, you finally understood the fact that life feels sweet as honey anytime he's around you. 

In other words, you love him.

You toss and turn in your bed, tears silently falling down your cheeks on a Wednesday night. Jisung's left this morning and you didn't even finish doing your assignment. You had the whole day for it today without anyone bothering you, but turns out, you managed to hate the painting you did anyway. 

It just didn't look good in your eyes. It looked gross. Horrible. When you compare yourself to the other people in your class, you feel like your art is worthless. It always somehow managed to look bad. And everybody knew. 

You were the only one who wasn’t good enough to get into the annual art showcase in your three years of college. 

Did you even improve at all? 

You turn around in your bed, seeing your phone light up with a new notification, opening it and wiping your tears away in the process so you can see though your blurry eyes. 

'How did the assignment go?' there states, Jisung's name appearing on the message app, your insides automatically calming down a little at the thought of your best friend.

'Don't even ask', you shoot him a reply, sighing deeply to stop the salty tears from falling. 

'It's okay, baby' he replies instantly, your heart racing at the nickname appearing on your screen, bitterly laughing at yourself for acting like a schoolgirl when it comes to Jisung. When did your feelings even grow into something more in the first place? It seemed like it was that way from the start. Perhaps you were just too oblivious to notice.

'It's not. Didn't even finish it. Kicked it when I fucked up again and just gave up.' you type, already friends with the feeling of defeat and failure you've been feeling since the evening.

He doesn't respond for a while, making you think he fell asleep with the phone in his hand again, turning around in your bed to put the phone back onto your bedside table to try to fall asleep on your own as well, when a new message lights up your screen.

You see a voice memo appearing in your messages with Jisung, your heart thumping at the image of hearing his voice this late in the evening, quickly pressing the play button and listening to what he had to say.

"Hi, umm- I've never actually done this before, but I know you're probably feeling like shit right now and I need you to know that you are not a failure, because I know you feel like one right now," you giggle a little at the accuracy, his low voice making you feel things you didn’t even know you could feel before, "anyways, I need you to be kind to yourself tonight. And since I know you like it when I sing, here's a little something…" he mumbles into the phone, making your heart race.

"Here goes nothing," he softly laughs, and clears his throat, beginning to sing, "Wise men say only fools rush in, but I can't help falling in love with you," his voice feels soft through the speaker, your eyes welling up with tears again, but this time, they're of appreciation and pure love for the boy laying in his bed 45 minutes away from you, because you know just how nervous he must have felt to sing into his phone just for you.

"Shall I stay? Would it be a sin, if I can't help falling in love with you?" he finishes, his voice fading away, your insides melting. How did you get so lucky? 

"And now go to sleep. It's your birthday tomorrow, we don’t want you to feel sad on your special day. Good night, baby." he sounds, the nickname bringing another set of butterflies into your stomach. 

You wish you could do as he told you. But at that exact moment, you bring yourself to try again, you make yourself stand up from your bed and move to your living room as you take a new canvas with you, inspiration kicking you with full force, taking tubes of paint and a paintbrush into your hand as you begin to work on your assignment, trying again just one last time.

You stand in front of your painting, watching over it with proud eyes. The chatter of people around you is only a background noise in your ears as you smile brightly at the assignment you finished just the time the clock striked midnight on Wednesday. 

"Yaaah y/n, it looks so good," you hear the voice of Lee Minho call next to you, patting your shoulder.

You grin and turn to look at him, gratitude washing over you upon hearing the compliment. "Thanks." 

"I wondered when you're finally going to be on a showcase, I don't understand why neither of your previous assignments made it," he mutters, shaking his head, "but this looks great. It's original." he nods.

"Thank you, Minho," you only smile wider, the pride in you growing minute by minute, "yours looks great too, by the way. I like the colors." 

"Really? I hate it. I never hated a theme more than this," he huffs, "who the fuck thinks nature is entertaining to paint?" 

"I know, right? I had four mental breakdowns over it," you laugh, now that the suffering is finally over and you can breathe freely.

"Did you use reference for this?" he asks suddenly, pointing to the painting hanging on the middle of the wall.

"No, I did it from memory…" you mumble, sighing.

You watch Minho's eyes shifting somewhere behind you, grinning widely at something that caught his eye, prompting you to look that way only to be left in a state of absolute shock. 

The talking of the people filling the showcase gradually stops as they see Han Jisung holding a plate of a strawberry cheesecake with a single candle stuck to the middle of it, moving slowly not to make the light flicker die down, the grinning face of Hwang Hyunjin following his steps with a bottle on champagne in his hands doing grimaces at you from afar as a honey voice calls through the room.

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday, dear y/n," he looks at you, eyes big and full of love, as he finally reaches your figure in the middle of the room,

"Happy birthday to you!" he finishes, your soft giggles cutting through the hall as you move to blow out the candle and gaze onto the face of your best friend.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were coming in the evening!" you yell, throwing yourself into his arms. It was only three days, but you already missed him too much.

"I escaped," he laughs, his whole body shaking in the process as you pull away after a second, "I'm joking. I couldn't stay with my mother knowing I'm gonna miss your first ever showcase." 

You smile warmly at him, the people around you disappearing in the moment, only his figure standing out to you in the haze as he hesitantly moves over and locks your lips in a quick kiss. 

You ignore the howling of Lee Minho coming from your left and the loud 'Finally!!' from the lips of Hwang Hyunjin to your right as Jisung turns to your painting, smiling widely at the sight.

"It looks so real," he mumbles in awe, noticing the way his insides turn into a puddle of sweet joy as he recognises the night view of the dell he showed you on the night of your first kiss, instantly realising the way you must have painted it after he sent you the voice memo to sing you to sleep on the Wednesday night. 

"You inspired me," you grin brightly. 

"Don't say that." he shyly looks down on his feet.

"But it's true." you prompt.

He smiles lightly, shaking his head before locking your eyes again. 

"I just realised I left your gift at home. Look at me, wishing you happy birthday a day later and not even bringing you a gift to make up for it…" he mutters, stepping closer to you and putting an arm around your shoulder in the process.

"That's okay," you say, and you really mean it. You are the happiest you've ever been right now, feeling accomplished and with him by your side. You don’t need any other gift.

"Well, I have one thing in my mind that can count as a gift, though," he smirks.

"And that is?" 

"I can finally be your boyfriend. I mean, isn't that the best gift you’ve ever gotten?" he grins, prompting you to elbow him lightly in the ribs as you burst into a fit of laughter.

"You're such a dork, I swear to god…"

"But I am your dork, right?" 

You sigh, playfully rolling your eyes. "Yes, Jisung. You are my dork. Only mine."