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hinaaspanda · 1 year ago

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pretty boy on lockdown! | k.gv

pairing: popular guy! kim gyuvin x fem, student president! reader warnings: swearing like three words, mentions of food genre: fake dating, reverse grumpy x sunshine, super fluffy, angst if you squint but even then it's not that much, crack fic wc: 9,752

Kim Gyuvin was begging on his knees trying to get away from his crazed fangirls. He just needed a moment of peace. Along came you, the stingy student president who didn't even know who he was! You were the final piece to the puzzle; the perfect addition to his perfect plan. It was simple; you two pretend to date and drive away all of Gyuvin's weird fangirls. You only had one rule, though; Gyuvin has to drive you everywhere!

a/n: hiii i'm back with my first fic for zb1! I love kim gyuvin with all my heart omg this fic was actually so fun to write! please support zb1 and their new song, crush, too! I tried to make this one super fluffy so hope u guys enjoy~

You were holding someone’s hand.

The hand was much bigger than yours, most likely a man’s. The metal surface of what you assumed was a ring had shocked your skin cool. His knuckles were calloused, rough—he seriously needed to invest in some hand cream. Contradictingly, his palms were warm and clammy; a sensation you didn’t particularly enjoy, either.

More importantly, however, you didn’t have a clue who this man was.

It seems he didn’t catch that memo.

“I already have a girlfriend,” the owner of the hand bogusly smiled at the two girls who cornered you in the middle of the hallway. Stupefied, you gazed up at his towering frame and broad shoulders, with his sports bag flush against his chest. You glanced at his flushed red ears, sweat beading from his forehead, his puppy dog eyes that were full of determination. You admit; he would’ve been cute if it weren’t for this non-consensual hand holding habit of his. The creepy-hand-guy glanced at his feet. “I can’t date you, sorry!”

“Awe, Gyubinnee!” one of the girls whined, a sound synonymous with an air horn. “Since when were you dating someone?”

You seconded the air-horn girl’s testaments. Since when were you in a relationship you didn’t even know about?

His hand clung around your fingers tighter. “It just sorta happened, you know?”

The two girls took quick glances at each other, whining some more before ultimately walking away, their shoulders slumped to the floor. Creepy-hand-guy waited a few paces, his eyes tracking the girls like a sniper on the kill. The girls turned the corner at the hall, and only then did the creepy hand guy exhale from relief. He held a hand against his chest, as if his heart was minutes away from falling out of place. Clearly, creepy-hand-guy was forgetting something.

“Are you gonna let go?”

“Oh, shit,” he jutted, his hand flying away from yours. He took two lengthy steps away from your figure, as if he finally learnt the meaning of personal space. Took him long enough. You heave a sigh, using your finally free hand to continue what you were originally here to do; gathering your things to bus home.

“I’m really sorry—those girls were killing me.” He cradled the nape of his neck with his palm, flashing the grin. A genuine one, this time. Though it was laced with nervousness. “Thanks for helping me out. I’m Gyuvin.”

Gyuvin pushed a hand out to your direction, making this the second time you’ve ever held his hand. You hugged your books against your chest, leaving one hand open to shake his hand. “y/n.”

“Do you usually hold random girl’s hands in your free time?” Turning around, you took a jab at him as you shoved your books into your school bag. It elicited a nervous chuckle from his chest. Gyuvin clung onto his bag strap. “No, those girls back there—they keep harassing me and asking for my number. So, I, uh, had to improvise? Yeah.”

Throwing your bag over your shoulder, you couldn’t help but giggle at his lack of coordination. Gyuvin fiddled with his fingers, lighting up at the sight of your amusement. He really did resemble a puppy.

You clicked your phone open, your eyes scanning the time left you had to rush over to your bus stop. Shock ran though your spine, sweat beaded from your forehead. 8 minutes. You had 8 minutes before the bus would arrive, and the closest bus stop resided on the other side of a massive hill. Slamming your locker shut, you dashed to the exit, brushing past Gyuvin’s shoulder. You quickly turned back, greeting the puppy boy with a weary eye-smile.

“Good luck with that—”

“Wait!”

His voice tethered you to the ground, your body frozen. You couldn’t quite figure out why you bothered to listen; the clock was ticking—fast. Gyuvin adjusted his figure to face you upfront before bending over in a 90* bow. Your brows furrowed, speechless. What was this guy doing?

“Can you be my fake girlfriend?”

You choked, eyes spilling from your sockets. This felt like some joke, like a prank camera crew was moments away from jumping out and exposing their true intentions. You glanced around just to be safe. You caught a glimpse of the boy before you, slowly straightening his posture—his eyes flooding with determination. Your lips part. He wasn’t joking, was he?

The puppy boy continues his wild claim, his palms facing you in defence. “I know it sounds crazy, but those girls have never listened to me before! This is the first time they’ve actually back down after I’ve told them to go away.” Gyuvin held a hand to his chest. “If I make it seem like I’m in a believable relationship, I might actually have a shot at making those guys leave me alone.”

Gyuvins eyes drilled into you, his voice softening. “I really need your help—please.”

Feelings of guilt started to seep into your chest, but you quickly swatted them away. You barely knew this man, why would you give into his psychotic request? You checked the bus time once again; 6 minutes. Shit.

“No thanks!” You jutted from your chest.

With that, you dashed out the door, your bag swinging side to side as you ran. As heartless as your actions were, you didn’t bother to look back. You simply let the puppy boy fend for himself. It didn’t matter, you’ll never see this guy again.

Right?

Running. Kim Gyuvin was running. His breath hitched against his chest, sweat

beaded from his forehead, his sports bag swaying frantically at his hips. He barely took notice, though; his brain was too occupied with escaping the two random girls who asked him for his number this afternoon.

Correction: girls who asked for his number and wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Gyuvin tucked himself away, hiding behind a wall of lockers to catch his breath. He combed through his hair, his chest heaving. This wasn’t the first time this happened. There have been countless times where Gyuvin had to run for his life from random people in his school; people that claimed to be fans. It was one of the downsides to being popular.

Gyuvin knew it was vain. He knew people would die just to be in his shoes. He knew people would love to be adored the way he was adored. Yet one massive thing completely goes over their heads; it was exhausting. People didn’t fully understand his struggles; the constant noise, the lack of privacy in the classroom and the bus ride to and from school. The only reason he studied his ass off to get his licence the minute he could was to get away from those fangirls who had no clue about personal space.

Now, they’re going so far as to wait for him after practice, and chase him down for his number. Gyuvin needed to put an end to this. Now.

Hastily, Gyuvin scanned the barren hallway. Nothing but a sea of beige lockers; all closed. It was natural, it was well after school hours—almost everyone had to be home by now. Gyuvin’s shoulders sunk to the floor, his heart losing hope for a successful escape.

The sound of rustling suddenly crept up to his ears as he turned his head to the left. He found the figure of a girl turned away as she moved books and papers around in her locker. Her face was buried into the nook of the locker, paying no attention to the world around her. Her surroundings, baren and quiet. Gyuvin envied her a little; she looked like she was having a peaceful day.

Another glance at the locker girl and a lightbulb bounces from Gyuvin’s brunette head. The locker girl was none other than you, Park y/n. According to Gunwook, you were the bossiest class president in your year, and you often stayed late after school for your various class president duties. Ricky dubbed you a tryhard for it. Gyuvin, however, didn’t have much to say on the matter—he’s never had the chance to talk to you.

Gyuvin found himself staring at you, time standing still. His eyes widen before he sends a swift slap onto his cheek. Yet, that didn’t stop from curiosity bubbling in his chest.

The echoes of steps and faint voices bounce from further down the hall, Gyuvin’s spine freezing in fear almost immediately after, his brain being thrown straight back into reality. Shit. They were back. Gyuvin had to act fast. In a panic, Gyuvin’s eyes landed on your hand, which was dangling nonchalantly against your side as you fiddled with your phone. An idea perked up in his mind, an idea he swatted away instantly. But as the steps grew faster, and his time ran shorter, he knew he had no other choice.

Gyuvin gulped as he dashed over to you. Guess it’s worth a shot.

So much for your peaceful day.

“Alright, I’ll pick you up at 4, we’ll get something to eat, then we’ll head to the concert venue.” Your best friend, Matthew listed out; his voice muffled by the crunch of cornchips. His thumb swiped over his phone, his other hand tossing more chips into his mouth. You sat across from him on your living room floor, your frame buzzing with excitement as the two of you planned your most anticipated weekend yet. Your favourite artist was holding a concert in your city and you needed to go; your life depended on it.

Cheerfully, you nod at Matthew’s rundown of your weekend plans, a grin plastered on your face. A grin that would disappear. The cause? Matthew's snoopy ass.

“We’ll figure out the rest later—tell me more about that hand holding guy!”

Right. That was another reason for your best friend’s visit; for him to probe you for answers regarding the weirdo, Kim Gyuvin. You only sighed. You only graced him an ominous text about it last night before you went to bed, it was only fair. You took one last swing of your soda.

“He was running away from some girls. Apparently, they can’t get the hint when he tells them he's not interested.” You wave your hand nonchalantly when images suddenly pop into your mind. The image of Gyuvin bowing down like a dork, his puppy dog eyes full of determination. The image of Gyuvin’s cheeky smile—a smile that was plastered onto his face for the entire 10 minute interaction. Your brain lingered on that image for a little while, though you weren’t fully sure as to why.

“Oh, and get this,” You finally continued, waving those weird thoughts away. “The guy asked if I could be his fake girlfriend. Like—what?”

“What, really?” Matthew erupted into a fit of giggles, his figure folding up into a ball and rolling around like some unbalanced egg. “That’s so stupid. Did he even tell you his name?”

You nipped at your lip. “Yeah. Gyuvin.”

Matthew choked on his chips, his eyes spilling from their sockets. You stood still, frozen as curiosity took over your frame. Did you say something wrong?

“Wait. Kim Gyuvin?”

“Yeah?” You furrowed your brows. “Does that matter?"

Matthew scoffed. "He's only one of the most popular guys at school? How did you not know this?"

You only shrug. Being class president didn’t leave much room for a social life. This was no exception. Matthew ran a hand through his hair, his jaw grazing the floor in awe. You, meanwhile, only brought your soda can to your lips, nibbling at the metal as you thought back to the puppy boy. The way he fumbled and stuttered on his words, the way he so desperately ran away from his supposed fans. This guy was supposed to be your school’s hotshot pretty boy? Nah. That was impossible.

Matthew leaned back onto the couch, a mischievous grin stretched across his face. “Go for it.”

You choked. “What? No!” You swat the air, huffing a sigh. “I’m way too busy for something that silly. Besides, it sounds like he’s got a whole roster of girls to choose from. He doesn’t need me.”

“I dunno, sounds like he does. No one just asks a question like that,” Matthew shrugs. You wince, memories from that afternoon with Gyuvin popping into your brain; your cruel rejection in particular lingering well past its welcome.

“Maybe it’ll be fun for you, too! Your social life needs some work—OW.” Your palm smacked his shoulder. Deserved.

“I don’t need a fake boyfriend for that, I have you.”

“Yeah. Your only friend. I can’t hang out all the time!”

“Whatever,” You swat the air again, not putting much thought into Matthew’s words as you dug your hands into a newly opened bag of chips. Matthew was just being delusional anyways. There was no point in listening to him.

There’s no way you’d give Kim Gyuvin the light of day.

Luck wasn’t on your side this particular afternoon.

It started with the bipolar weather of your city. Blue skies of the afternoon quickly shrivelled up into thunderous grey clouds, and soon later, showers of rain drenched the outside. Luckily enough, your student council meeting had just ended, meaning you’d be trapped in the pouring rain. Without an umbrella. Yay.

You pushed through your school doors, being immediately greeted with harsh rain as you took your first steps outside. You tried to salvage your face, at least. Pressing your hand against your forehead in a makeshift visor; but it was no use. Your makeup had practically washed off of your face, like a tiny floatie amidst a grand wave. You only nipped at your lip, the rest of the trek to your bus stop becoming a cold, shivering blur. As you finally approach the barren bench and bus stop pole, you pull your phone out, only to be met with another devastating piece of news.

32 minutes. The next bus was 32 minutes late. Your heart sank into the drenched sidewalk.

A sigh escapes your lips as you look up at the droplets before you, the splotches of gloomy clouds crowning over your once innocent sky. You didn’t even have the energy to complain, it was no use. As much as you wanted it to, whining wouldn’t make the bus get here faster, or miraculously send a ride your way to get you away from this mess. And so, you stood your ground, convincing yourself that everything was fine.

Happy thoughts. Like the warm shower you could take the moment you arrive home, or the concert outfit you could plan even though the concert was still weeks away. Yeah. Just think happy thoughts, y/n.

Your phone buzzed against your palm, your eyes scanning through the numerous water beads cascading off the glass.

matthew! [6:49 pm] GIRL I'M SO SORRY MY PARENTS JUST GROUNDED ME

matthew! [6:49 pm] I CAN’T FUCKING GO TO THE CONCERT

Your heart shattered. No. This can’t be happening. You and Matthew; that's how it was supposed to be. You couldn’t just go alone! Who else were you supposed to go to the concert with? Frantically, your thumbs swipe up the screen, summoning the phone keyboard.

y/n [6:50pm] WHAT

matthew! [6:50 pm] I KNOW

matthew! [6:51 pm] I stayed out past curfew like ONCE

y/n [6:51pm] is there really no way to change their minds??

y/n [6:52pm] like chores??

matthew! [6:54 pm] no :(( I already tried everything

matthew! [6:54 pm] just go without me

You nipped at your lips. You doubted being able to go, yourself. Your parent’s hand one stipulation when allowing you to go to the concert. You needed a ride. Neither one of your parents were available, nor did they want you on a 2 hour bus ride to the other side of town. Matthew was your only option, and now he’s gone. Your heart beats rapidly beneath your chest. What were you going to do?

“y/n?”

The voice shook you to reality. You could tell the voice was yelling, attempting to overpower the crashing rain and its new friends; thunder and lightning. Your eyes move to follow the voice, your poor pupils meeting with a strong beam of light. You wince, using your arm to shield the light. A car sat in front of you, oddly enough. A car you didn’t quite recognize. Though the owner of the car would supposedly beg to differ. You bent down to get a better few of this mystery owner.

You choke.

It was Kim Gyuvin.

You glance around before taking a step closer. “What are you doing here?”

“What?”

“I said; What are you doing here?” Your voice grew louder at the end.

“Oh,” He picks at the nape of his neck. “I was driving by when I saw you. Who takes the bus in this weather?”

Your eyes fall to the ground; your soaked shoes. “Nobody could pick me up.”

The blanket of your silence was overwhelmed by the rapid taps of the rain droplet hitting against Gyuvin’s windshield.

“Do you want a ride?”

Your eyes widen, spilling from their sockets. Was he being serious? Kim Gyuvin, the man who you knew for about 48 hours in total, just offered you a ride in his car. Was he insane? Between this and his little hand-holding habit, you were starting to get the impression that personal space was not in this man’s vocabulary.

“What? No tha—”

A sudden strike of lightning flashes down near you, the earth below rumbling and jolting in fear. You clearly did the same, yelping out a shriek as you almost lost your own balance. Fear shot down your spine faster than the lightning strike you had just witnessed. Your eyes bounce back to Gyuvin’s car. Fuck it.

“Alright, fine.”

Cold. Your clothes were cold against your skin as you leaned back in Gyuvin’s passenger seat. The seatbelt pushed the wet fabric into your skin further, making you shiver at each movement. Your fingers fumbled with the straps of your bag, eyes boring into the neon green light of his car radio. Gyuvin’s eyes darted to you, overflowing with unease. “Music?”

“Uh, it’s fine.” Your eyes wandered to the crashing raindrops outside; the sky painted a deep navy blue. Your eyes followed each streetlight that flew by your view, desperate for a distraction.

The two of you were drowning in awkward silence, nothing but the rumbles of thunder booming in your ears. You were suffocating. What else were you supposed to do? You didn’t exactly know what to say to the boy who asked you to be his fake girlfriend. You tapped your fingers against the nylon of your school bag.

“Those girls from the other day,” Gyuvin’s voice suddenly peaked, his thumbs drumming against his steering wheel. “They hadn’t approached me at all, today. That fake relationship thing really worked.”

You only nod. Did people really think you were a couple?

The thought makes your stomach feel funny.

“Is it really that bad?” You looked over to him.

Gyuvin huffed a sigh, his cheeks puffing up with air. “It happens almost every day. It drives me crazy.”

You gulp, Gyuvin’s response rendering you speechless. The most popular guy at school hated being popular. Ironic. Guilt clung onto your chest again. You had to admit; you felt bad for the guy. Having people chase you down the halls on a daily basis wasn’t an easy feat. And yet, he chose to stay popular. You couldn’t help but wonder why.

Maybe you were a little curious when it came to the school’s pretty boy.

You choke. What an absurd thought.

At that moment, intrusive thoughts flooded your brain. Thoughts of Matthew and the concert; thoughts of waiting for the bus on cruel, rainy days; the fact that this was the fastest you’ve ever gotten home after a student president meeting. You took note of the heater effortlessly thawing your frozen body, the shield of the windows protecting you from the crashing rain.

Eventually, Gyuvin pulls into your driveway. He sets his car into park, fidgeting with the buttons to unlock the car doors. Your eyes met Gyuvin’s, which were already staring back at you. “I guess I’ll see you around.”

“Wait!” You began without thinking. Gyuvin’s brows furrowed together, confused.

“I'll do it. I’ll be your fake girlfriend.”

Gyuvin’s eyes split from their sockets. He leaned forward in shock. Maybe a little excitement, too. “What?”

“But,” You lifted a finger to the sky. With the way he stared back at you, you were convinced Gyuvin forgot to breathe. You continued. “I’ll only do it if you do something for me in return, got it?”

“Yeah, anything!” Gyuvin’s heart began racing.

“Drive me everywhere.”

Drive me everywhere.

Your voice replayed in Kim Gyuvin’s head. It replayed during the lacklustre lectures of his biology class; during the repetitive drills of his basketball practice warm ups. It was odd. The presence of you in his mind made his boring day a little less boring.

As baffling as your demand was, Gyuvin couldn’t help but accept. In exchange for a fake relationship that would drive away the fangirls he had to deal with on a daily basis, Gyuvin would drive you to and from school everyday, as well as wherever else you wanted to go. It’s a win-win situation; a way to finally escape the horrors of those obsessive fangirls. A way to finally be at peace. Besides, he always felt a little bad watching you bus home everyday.

Gyuvin’s chest bubbled up with excitement. He wasn’t quite sure why.

“No hugging? Really?”

The two of you sat in Gyuvin’s car, scribbling down what you both thought were important ground rules to have for this peculiar fake relationship. You’ve only agreed on three so far.

Kim Gyuvin drives Park y/n to and from school

Kim Gyuvin takes Park y/n to concert

Park y/n scares creepy fangirls away >:))

You grumble. It clearly didn’t dawn on you how much of a headache this would give you. Gyuvin leaned back on the driver’s seat, exasperated. You watched as he ran a hand through his hair, his brow’s furrowing at your seeming outlandish claim. You only nibbled at your lip; unsure of what exactly was so wrong with what you said. “Yeah. No hugging. Or touching, for that matter.”

“How would anyone believe us if I can’t hug you?” Gyuvin throws his hands in the air like a big baby.

“I dunno? I’m just not a touchy person—It’s not a big deal.” You shrug, swatting away his concerns. Gyuvin springs up from his laid back stance, snatching the notebook away from your unassuming hands. You stay stunned, brows furrowing at what he was doing. You watch as he scribbles profusely before facing the journal your way the minute he finishes.

Kim Gyuvin and Park y/n MUST hold hands (to avoid suspicion!)

The notebook drops onto your lap as you gaze back at Gyuvin, an unamused stare lining your face. “Really?”

“What? Holding hands isn’t that bad!” Gyuvin grins. “It’s not like we haven’t done it, either.”

Heat creeps up to your cheek. His remark earns a punch to his shoulder.

“Are you obsessed with my hands or something?” You scowl.

This time, it was Gyuvin’s turn to grow absolutely flustered. His cheeks grew into a deep red, the wash of colour spreading all the way to the shell of his ear. He coughed out a lump from his throat as picked at the nape of his neck. “What? No—shut up!”

Gyuvin gulped, slightly turning away from you. “It’s a nice middle ground.”

You sigh, your shoulders sinking into the plush of his passenger seat. “Fine.”

You never thought you’d be spending your Wednesday afternoon eating ice cream atop the trunk of Kim Gyuvin’s car.

It happened seemingly out of nowhere. One minute, you were sitting peacefully in the passenger’s seat. Your mind wanders absently as you hum along to the faint radio emitting from Gyuvin’s crummy speakers. Your windows rolled down halfway; just enough for the wind to graze against your face, to refresh your skin.

The next minute? Kim Gyuvin gasps at a sight on the road. With the way his eyes spilled out of their sockets, his jaw grazing his lap, and his finger jutting out before him, you would think there was a bear on the road, or something. Gyuvin begins to literally howl at the sight, his figure bouncing in his seat like a kid with candy. You finally look over to what the puppy boy was currently losing his mind over.

It was an ice cream stand. On the side of the road. It wasn’t candy, but it was close enough. You rolled your eyes.

“Wanna get ice cream?” Gyuvin’s puppy eyes glimmered with whimsy and wonder; you were at a loss for words. You picked at your lips, eyes avoiding his. “I dunno. I gotta be home soon—”

“But these ice cream stands always change locations—and their stuff’s the best!” You felt the car slowly move to the side of the road before coming to a slow halt. There was no point in arguing now. Gyuvin shifted the car in park. “We’ll be quick, I promise!”

You glanced up at Gyuvin’s eyes once more. They bore into you, glistening in a way that made your heart melt. Damnit.

“Alright, fine.”

“YAYYY THANK YOUUU!” Gyuvin yelped at the top of his lungs as he sprung out of the car. He didn’t forget to dash to your side of the car, opening your door for you before practically skipping his way to the ice cream stand.

You sat on the roof of his car’s trunk, your knees tucked up against your chest as your arms hugged them close. Your fingers loosely latch onto your cone of chocolate ice cream, the frosty exterior stopping you from holding onto the cone with a firm grip. Gyuvin sat beside you, leaning back with his legs sprawled over the trunk’s surface. He brought his mango-flavoured cone up to his lips, about to take his first bite before latching his attention onto you. “Aren’t you gonna eat?”

You gazed up at him. “Yeah, yeah. I will.”

It was peculiar; the way you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. He didn’t look different in a physical sense; same hazelnut hair, same basketball team jacket hugging his frame, same broad shoulders and tall physique. Yet, something was off.

Kim Gyuvin was supposed to be the campus pretty boy. This elusive celebrity of the high school hallway. Completely untouchable to the masses. This Kim Gyuvin, however, was nothing of the sort. He was bubbly and bright. He was clumsy and jumpy. His energy worked overtime, it almost amazed you. He didn’t seem unattainable at all.

It was almost cute.

You choke. What were you thinking? Kim Gyuvin wasn’t cute. Were you crazy?

“y/n!” The touch of a finger poking against your cheek pushed you back to reality. Your eyes once again met Gyuvin’s, now with a mad expression lining his face. “Hurry up and eat—I was waiting for you!”

You finally lick your ice cream cone, stupefied by the creamy consistency and perfectly sweet flavour. The treat melted in your mouth; it was addicting. You couldn’t stop eating it. In your peripheral vision you watched as Gyuvin watched you, a proud grin lining his face. “So? What do you think?”

“...Yummy,” You mutter in between bites. Gyuvin only chuckles. You watch as his puppy eyes fold into crescent moons and your heart melts faster than the ice cream in your hands. With his free hand, Gyuvin pokes out his index finger before lightly tapping the tip of your nose.

“You’re so cute, y/n.”

Your heart performed backflips at his words. Maybe you were starting to prefer this bubbly Kim Gyuvin.

Sweat beaded off your forehead. Nervousness drilled through your skin.

The reason? Kim Gyuvin, who was currently standing outside of your classroom door.

You knew that today was your first “official” day of the scheme. Hell, you planned the whole scheme out last night on call. Nevertheless, fear shot down your spine. You’ve seen Gyuvin’s fangirls first hand—you knew they wouldn’t handle this new relationship lightly. You weren’t sure if you’d make it out of today alive.

Worst of all? It seems Gyuvin was actually enjoying this.

Gyuvin’s shoulder leaned against the door frame as students funnelled through the narrow exit. Girls glance up in shock, whispering to their friends at the sight of the infamous Kim Gyuvin waiting for someone at the door. Waiting for someone that wasn’t them.

Gyuvin’s eyes finally meet yours, a mischievous grin stretching across his face as waved at you. You glare back at him, looking around for a clear path before stomping over to him.

“What are you doing here?” You seethed through your teeth, jutting a finger at his chest.

Gyuvin only grinned. “I came to visit you before practice, baby!”

The nickname summoned glares from all around you. You were done for. Your voice got quieter. “Didn’t we agree on meeting in the car? So I don’t, you know, die?”

“That would take too long,” Gyuvin waved his hand. “I just wanted to see you.”

Your cheeks flare up at his words. You frantically sweep your hands, gesturing to him to leave. “Well, you see me now, right? So shoo! Before more people kill me with their eyes.”

“Alright, alright,” Gyuvin dragged on his words before his fingers laced in between yours. You jolt, most definitely not ready for the stupid stunt he was about to pull.

Suddenly, Gyuvin gently cupped your hand in his, his thumb softly swiping against your skin as he lifted your hand up to his lips. Air stops right before it reaches your windpipe; you couldn’t breathe. Your heartbeat surged with energy as your eyes widened. He looks back at you one last time before grazing his lips against the heated, flushed surface of your skin. What was Kim Gyuvin thinking?

“Wish me luck at practice, love!”

You choked. Red paint smeared on your back, drawing out the image of a target. The stares of every girl in your homeroom burned through your skin. You glanced up at Gyuvin, a mischievous grin now sweeping across his face. A grin that calms you down in seconds. Odd, considering it's the same grin which sent your heart through turbulence just minutes before.

Maybe Kim Gyuvin is an idiot.

Maybe he took it a little too far with that stunt he pulled.

He couldn’t help it, though. He saw it in a movie once, and always wanted to try it out. Besides, your reaction was priceless. The way your eyes shoot out of their sockets, your jaw hanging to the floor.

The way your cheeks flared up in minutes, like a milk bun in a toaster preheated way too high. The way you nibbled on your knuckle from your stress. The way your eyes glistened beneath the school’s building lights as you shot him a deathly glare. He could have sworn you carried a galaxy within them.

Gyuvin couldn’t ignore how small your hand was compared to his, either.

Soon enough, Gyuvin’s heart was pounding through his chest. Images of you clouded his vision.

Gosh, you’re adorable.

Gyuvin practically skipped on his way to practise.

Your stomps of fury echoed throughout the hallway leading up to your school's gym. The impact earned concerned stares from the students passing by, but you didn’t pay them any mind. You were laser-focused on one thing; getting answers from Kim Gyuvin. That cheeky asshole.

What kind of stunt was that? Kissing your hand in front of the sea of fangirls at his disposal? Did he want you to die? With the way your heart was racing, you felt as though you were going to die anyway. You just chalked it up to your rage.

It couldn’t explain the way your cheeks ignited in flames, though.

Your frame burst through the gymnasium doors, the boom bouncing off every surface of the barren room. The facility was practically empty, save for a few students dressed clad in their gym strips and packing their bags to go home for the day. You counted maybe a handful of them standing around, gazing at you like a deer in headlights, but it didn’t matter. You were here for one person, and one person only.

“Gyuvin!” Your voice leaped out of your chest without thinking. You gulp, watching as Gyuvin’s teammates slowly turn towards you, Gawking at you like some foreign creature of the wild. Gyuvin catches your figure in his gaze shortly after, a small smile hooking onto the corner of his lips. “y/n?”

“I need to talk to you.” Your voice softened this time around. A faux smile lined your lips as you made your way towards him.

“You miss me already?” Gyuvin innocently asked, a not-so-innocent grin smacked across his face. You only rolled his eyes. “Oh shush! What the hell was that stunt you pulled just—”

“Wait! These guys don’t know yet!”Gyuvin suddenly nudged your shoulder gently, interrupting you. Pressing a finger to his lips, he tilted his head towards his friends, his voice hushed. “They think we’re really dating!”

“So?” You crossed your arms, your voice meeting his.

“So, we gotta act like a couple!” Gyuvin’s hand gently traced the outside of your arm, slowly falling until he reached your fingertips. He clung onto your fingers loosely, the act making your heart race. “Remember the deal?”

Suddenly, a cog in your brain switched. All eyes were on you, each student curious what would happen next. All attention; laser focused on you. You weren’t looking for an answer, anymore. You wanted to make Kim Gyuvin pay for what he did; for drowning you in a sea of embarrassment. You wanted revenge.

He wanted an act? Oh, you were gonna give him one, alright.

“I mean—Of course I missed you, baby!” Your voice sang sweet like honey. As you raise yourself onto your tippy-toes, your face inches closer to him. You watch as Gyuvin’s eyes spill from their sockets and his face plumps pink. He’s stunned to his core; you’ve turned him to stone. Your free hand cups the side of his face. A smirk lined your lips as they graze against Gyuvin’s cheek in a sweet kiss.

Sweet, sweet revenge.

You step away from the stunned puppy, clinging onto his fingers. You made sure not to miss the stunned faces of Gyuvin’s teammates, their jaws grazing the floor. And who could forget Gyuvin’s reaction? You certainly couldn’t, with the way his face drowned in red, his hands cupping over his mouth. You send him a flirty wink. “I’ll be in the car. Don’t keep me waiting!”

You skipped your way out of the gym, totally ignoring your racing heartbeat. It was just from the adrenaline, anyway.

“What happened to Matthew, sweetie?” Your mom tilted her head to the side.

You picked at your fingers, eyes darting between your socks and the coffee table just paces beside them. “He couldn’t make it tonight. Gyuvin offered to take me instead.”

Currently, you and Gyuvin are sitting on your living room couch, facing your parents. Barely facing, anyways; you have never been more nervous in your life than at this very moment. A gulp pushed through your chest. You weren’t fully sure why the campus pretty boy was currently in your home. You just wanted him to pick you up right before you had to leave for the concert that evening. Instead, he insisted on coming half an hour early to introduce himself to your parents. Was he crazy?

All of this felt so formal. Like it was a real date. It made your stomach swirl in on itself.

As his forehead proceeded to shed bullets, Gyuvin clumsily shot up from his seat, jutting a hand towards your dad. “My name is Kim Gyuvin, sir! I am y/n’s classmate and I happened to—uh—have tickets to the same concert as her—I have no ulterior motives with your daughter sir, we are just friends—” Gyuvin spat out in a rushed, single breath. Your body cringes as you watch from the sidelines. Your father hesitates, his brows furrowing as he takes the hand of the lost puppy.

“Alright, then. Have her home by 11,” Your dad simply says.

Gyuvin’s chest puffs up, determination swelling in his cheeks. “Yes, sir!”

You gaze up at him from your seat on the couch. The way his brunette head gleamed beneath your living room lights. You watched as his hands moved from fidgeting with his belt loops, to aggressively brushing through his hair, to clinging behind his back. You watched as his eyes burned with a passion you’ve never seen before. As if he was committed to making the best first impression to your parents. A weird feeling bubbled up your chest.

You shot up from your seat and b-lined for the kitchen. “I’ll get everyone some water!”

Escaping to the solitude of your kitchen, you swing open the cabinet door. You reach for the first cup you find before drowning it underneath the faucet water. The white noise of the water pressure flooded your mind. Your weird, weird mind.

“Is that your new boyfriend?” The voice of your mother popped in your ears, nearly making you spit out your water.

Boyfriend? Kim Gyuvin? Was your mother crazy?

You took another gulp of water. Your mother was only half wrong, you suppose. You were technically his fake girlfriend. But that wasn’t the same. Still, the thought made your heart race.

“What? Mom—no!” You quickly brush the thought away. Or try to, anyway. “We’re just friends. It’s not like that.”

You keep eye-contact with your socks as your mother’s voice peaks up again. “That’s too bad. I like him for you.”

You picked at your lips. Why was your heart beating so fast? “What do you mean?”

“The boy seems sweet. Not many guys your age are willing to drive someone around like that. He seemed so eager to meet us, too—that's rare. Plus, he's handsome!” Your mother sent you a soft smile. “Boys like that are hard to come across.”

Images of Gyuvin rush to your mind. Images you couldn’t swat away easily. With no final words, your mom slips out of the kitchen, leaving you to drown in your thoughts.

It was odd, to say the least.

Music was blasting in Gyuvin’s ears. It was blasting so hard, in fact, that Gyuvin could feel the bass ruminate in his chest. And when there wasn’t any music, the screams of fangirls filled in those gaps. Neon lights blared like sirens from the front of the stage; the brightness almost hurting his eyes. He was drowning in a sea of people; fans dedicated to the music of whatever band was playing before him. There were a multitude of distractions in front of him.

Yet, Kim Gyuvin still had his eyes on you, standing beside him in the crowd.

The way your eyes sparkled the moment the band played your favourite song. The way you threw your arms in the air, dancing to the beat of the music and singing the lyrics with all your heart. The way your smile never failed to brighten up the dim concert hall. It was all Gyuvin could focus on.

Gyuvin couldn’t keep his eyes off of you as his heart beat beneath his chest, overpowering the pressure from the music around him. The heat creeping under his skin could have easily been chalked up to the crowd of people pushing up against his body, but Gyuvin had a feeling that wasn’t it. The culprit was you, taking over every thought he had in his mind.

What if it wasn’t fake?

You and him. Park y/n and Kim Gyuvin. What if it was real?

Gyuvin’s stomach flipped in on itself.

He couldn’t help but laugh as a stranger’s shoulder bumped into him, jolting him back to reality. There was no way you’d want to be with him. This was all just one big lie, anyway. Gyuvin was just reaching for the stars.

Maybe front row tickets weren’t the smartest idea.

As expensive of a purchase as they were, many people were still able to afford them. As a result, you were swimming in a crowd of avid, committed fans—and you could barely float. Don’t be fooled, you loved this rare opportunity to see your favourite band perform live. Nevertheless, standing in this crowd was exhausting.

Soon enough, the concert had entered its third and final set of the night. But rather than losing their energy, like what was expected to happen at the end of the night, the crowd gained energy. Slowly, the people around you surged with energy; jumping up and down, shoving left and right. Your shoulders roughly crashed against those of your neighbours, but nobody noticed. Everyone was too busy enjoying themselves.

You, however, weren’t. With each strike against your frame, fear shocked through your body. You felt closed in, trapped. You held your limbs close to your chest, out of fear that you’d hurt yourself. You needed a way out.

Suddenly, the face of a certain someone appeared in your mind. A certain someone that you couldn't quite find at the moment.

Where was Gyuvin?

You whip your head around, eyes frantically scanning the blurry, messy crowd. No one resembled the tall puppy boy you grew so familiar with. Your eyes could practically dry out with how hard you worked on them, searching for Gyuvin in a heated frenzy, but he was nowhere to be found. You were enclosed by waves of strangers, not one face looked vaguely familiar to you. Your breaths began to quicken as fear shot down your spine. Your body froze on the spot—a deer in headlights.

Without warning, the touch of a hand grazed against your wrist. You didn’t have time to react before the hand clung onto you, pulling your figure to your right. Soon later, you crashed onto the tense surface of someone’s chest, their body heat swiftly igniting your own.

You glance up, your eyes meeting those puppy eyes you know and love.

Kim Gyuvin looked down at your figure, his gaze overflowing with worry and fear. Your heart finally begins to calm down, your mind finally clearing. You watch as his free hand reaches up to touch you, but it hesitates at the last second. The hand that clung onto yours, however, never dared to let go.

“Stay close, okay? I don’t wanna lose you.”

You gulped, butterflies fluttering at the pit of your stomach. Only now did you fully register how close you two were. You were snug against his chest, faces just centimetres apart. You gazed up at his figure; the way his adam’s apple bobbed up and down, the way his once brunette hair blazed a cool indigo underneath the blaring stage lights. The way that his eyes collected stars as they hung onto you—only you. His breath wisps onto your skin, his shoulders effortlessly caging your frame in his. Your skin suddenly felt hot, flushed.

There was something different about Gyuvin, tonight. You couldn’t put your finger on it.

You didn’t know what came over you, or what monster had possessed you just now, but you found yourself resting your head on Gyuvin’s chest for the rest of the concert. It felt safe there; a part of you never wanted to leave.

“Thank you,” your voice didn’t reach past a whisper.

10:48pm. The sun retired beneath the sky. Stars peeked through the ebony fabric. The small glimmers of light you did see were in the form of streetlamps, quickly passing you as Gyuvin drove you home.

It was night-time. It was dangerously close to your curfew. Yet you didn’t want to leave.

Gyuvin’s car came to a soft halt as he drove into your driveway. He brought you home right before the hour of your curfew hits, like the gentleman he was. It made your stomach flip in on itself; made your head spiral in directions you didn’t deem possible before. What was Kim Gyuvin doing to you?

The air was tense, quiet. Neither of you spoke as you exited the car, the light outside your house cascading over your figures like liquid gold. You watched as Gyuvin’s eyes grazed through the gravel of your driveway; the leaves of your front yard hedge—but never on you. Though you did the same, it still made your heart sink a little. Was this really the end of the night?

“Hey,” Your voice peaked beneath the silence. “Thanks—for tonight.”

Finally, his eyes land on you. His hand reached up to cling on the nape of his neck. “I mean, you made me come here.”

“Hey! You started this, you know.” You roll your eyes to the stars above, crossing your arms and leaning back on the side of Gyuvin’s car.

Gyuvin’s eyes stayed on you as his figure inched closer. He shoved his hands in his pockets, the cool air condensing his breath into puffs of air every exhale he takes. You felt your heart race beneath your chest again, forgetting to breathe, yourself, as Gyuvin rests a hip beside you. His eyes folded up into crescent moons.

“And I don’t regret a thing.” His voice was soft, fragile. It made your heart leap.

It was as if the space around had faded away, leaving only you and Kim Gyuvin in its wake. This world was yours and yours alone. You felt your body shifting closer and closer to Gyuvin’s frame. Your figure slowly encases itself in his warmth; his body heat. Your eyes darted back and forth between your shoes and Gyuvin’s eyes. Butterflies bombarded your stomach.

You thought back to your mother’s words from earlier that night.

What if everything was real? What if you had something more?

Adrenaline shot through your chest. It was an absurd thought. But, you clearly weren’t thinking straight.

Your eyes latch onto Gyuvin’s lips. Your hands fiddled with the hem of your jacket. You took note of Gyuvin’s arm, reaching out to you before hesitating, eventually leaning on the roof of his car. His eyes lured yours in, holding them hostage as your hands developed a mind of their own; resting atop of Gyuvin’s shoulders. With your heart springing from your chest, your bodies move closer. Gyuvin’s palm slides up against your cheek as your eyes flutter shut. You felt the puffs of his warm breath graze against your skin. Sure, maybe you weren’t thinking straight. You haven’t been since the concert, but for once, you haven’t felt more sure about anything in your life.

“y/n?”

The voice of your father jolts the two of you back to reality. You jump back, a wall of awkward space slicing through you. Your head darts over to your house’s front door, where you found your dad in his sleep robe and pyjama bottoms, leaning against the door frame. “What are you doing out here? It’s late. Get inside.”

You and Gyuvin simultaneously cleared your throats, your eyes dodging each other as you scramble to collect yourselves. You and Gyuvin said your hesitant goodbyes as you trekked into your home.

Gosh, you’re so stupid.

Kim Gyuvin couldn’t move out of your driveway. His figure was frozen, immobile as he sat in the driver’s seat. His hands hung loosely around the stagnant steering wheel as his mind ran in circles.

Kim Gyuvin is an idiot.

He was rash and reckless; a complete fool. He should’ve known better than to try and kiss you. He knew this relationship—this fake relationship, was nothing but a complex business venture. He knew that no real feelings were supposed to mix in this cauldron of lies. Things would turn messy if they did. You two had a simple deal; he would drive you around, while you drove away those crazy fangirls he had seemed to forget about.

He also knew that none of that seemed to matter anymore. The more time he spent with you, the more he focused on you. You had his heart on lockdown; and he didn’t mind it one bit.

He also knew that you could feel it, too. The way you leaned into him, your hands clinging onto his shoulders, pulling him in. The way you gazed up at him, your eyes glimmering golden from the streetlights above. Maybe it was too early to tell, but the excitement was already buzzing through his chest.

Maybe he had a chance.

There was only one way he could find out.

Sitting up straight, Gyuvin shifted his car in reverse before slowly backing out of your driveway. He opted to wait for another day, seeing how late it was in the evening. But that didn’t stop the adrenaline from coursing through his body.

Kim Gyuvin is an idiot.

An idiot who has fallen for you.

“You almost WHAT?” Matthew’s voice jumped out of your phone like a fish out of water. You dug your head in your hands, a million different emotions rushing through your mind. You spun around in your desk chair, getting dizzy as you stared up at the ceiling. It didn’t matter though; your mind was already spinning. Spinning with thoughts of Kim Gyuvin.

“We almost kissed.” You muttered, your head sinking onto the surface of your desk. “When he dropped me off yesterday. We just started talking outside his car. One thing led to another and—God, I wanna die.”

A series of incoherent mumbles erupted from Matthew’s line. “What stopped you? Why didn’t you just kiss him?”

“My dad caught us outside.” You groan, your fingers digging into your temples. “Besides, I was just being stupid. I shouldn’t have tried to kiss him.”

Matthew finally calmed down. You could hear him munching on a snack through the phone. “Why’s that?”

Wasn’t it obvious? You weren’t supposed to be with Kim Gyuvin. This relationship was supposed to be fake; a strict business plan. You had no real chance with Kim Gyuvin—he was the campus pretty boy, after all. You huff a sigh from your chest.

“I can’t be with him. Everything we had—it’s all fake. A fake relationship so he could get away from those crazy fangirls, and I could stop taking the bus in the rain. We can’t just—”

“Do you like him?”

Matthew’s words cut through yours like a knife. You choke. Stubbornly, your mind ventures out to images of Gyuvin Images of Gyuvin’s puppy dog eyes—those very same eyes that would fold up into heart-wrenching crescent moons every time he smiled. You thought about his touchy tendencies and the ways he made your heart race. From booping your nose to kissing the back of your hand. You thought about how you first met; how he clung onto your hand for dear life. How you thought it was weird then, but now you didn’t seem to mind. No one seemed to make your heart flutter the same way Kim Gyuvin did.

“Yeah.” You heard yourself answer without much thought. Heat creeped up to your cheeks.

“Then none of that matters!”

Your stomach flips in on itself. Matthew was right. You liked Kim Gyuvin; and you weren’t going to let anything get in your way.

“I’ll call you back, Matthew.” You quickly swipe at your phone.

“GO GET YOUR MANS—” Matthew’s voice peaked through the mic before you hastily ended the call.

You were more than disarrayed when it came to getting ready to leave the house. A haphazardly draped sweater hung over your figure. You didn’t bother to change out of your pyjama shorts as you slid on your house slippers. You weren’t fully sure if they were matching, either; you didn’t have the time to care. With your stare blazing with determination, you only cared about one thing; making your way to Kim Gyuvin.

With more strength than you anticipated you swing your front door open, immediately greeting the harsh welcome of the afternoon sunlight and crisp breeze. After wincing at the light, you look up.

You choke.

It wasn’t just the weather that greeted you with an extra shock factor this afternoon. With a rose in one hand, and his other hand balled up into a fist in the air—you assumed he was about to knock on your door—a figure stood before you. His puppy dog eyes stared back at you with determination as your heart performed backflips beneath your chest.

Kim Gyuvin was already there; at your front door, waiting for you.

“Gyuvin?!” You jolt, stepping out of the house and sealing the front door behind you shut. Kim Gyuvin towered over you, his tall frame shielding you from the blaring afternoon sun. But the warmth on your face stayed, all the same. You gulp, immediately aware of your less than tasteful current appearance. You swipe at your hair, taming any potential fly aways before fiddling with the handle of your zipper. You winced in embarrassment. “What are you doing here?”

Gyuvin nervously scans his surroundings before looking down at the rose in his hand. He pushes it forward; towards you.

“I, um—I thought of you.”

Your heart simultaneously surged with energy and melted into a puddle; were you having a heart attack? Your fingers grazed the rose, your chest buzzing with a feeling you couldn’t explain. You part your lips to say something, but it seems Gyuvin wasn’t finished.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you, actually. Ever since I met you and randomly held your hand, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You gulp. “Gyuvin—”

The puppy boy gazed down at his shoes, the shell of his ear turning pink. “Maybe this is selfish, but I don’t like having to use some weird, intricate plan to spend time with you. I wanna drive you around, but not just because it’s a rule we discussed on a piece of paper. Everything in me is telling me that I need to be with you. Like—really be with you.”

“Gyuvin—”

“I know you probably don’t wanna hear this. I just wanted to get it off my chest. I guess I should’ve planned this out more, sorry about that—”

“Gyuvin!” You watched as the puppy boy jumped, his eyes collecting stars in broad daylight; it amazed you.

Gosh, you couldn’t take it anymore.

It all happened in mere seconds. Your heart danced beneath your chest as it heaved with energy. You were a balloon seconds before popping. Your limbs gained rebellious minds of their own, your legs inching closer to Gyuvin’s frame as your arms reached out to cling onto his jacket. Gyuvin only gazes back at you, his figure not daring to step away from you as he lets you pull him closer. A thread of space hung in the balance of your faces. With your mind splitting in different directions, and your heart finally leading your body, you squeeze your eyes shut;

Capturing your lips in his.

Candy. Kim Gyuvin tasted like candy as your lips melted into his. Slowly but surely, your figures began to move. Gyuvin’s touch was soft, fragile. His arm gently snakes around the small of your waist as the other supports your head by the palm. Your hands slip on either side of Gyuvin’s face, pulling him closer. He was snug against your frame—so close that he could feel the butterflies erupting from the pit of your swirling stomach. So close that he could touch the heart that was beating rapidly. Rapidly for him. Nevertheless, you wouldn’t dare to let him go.

Your lips hesitantly pluck apart, both of you torn between reaching out for another kiss and taking a much needed deep breath. Your chest heaves as you glance up at him, your face drenched in flustered heat. Kim Gyuvin wasn’t any better, with his face smeared in red blush. It was gut-wrenchingly adorable. You gulp, still breathless.

“I wanna be with you, too.”

Gyuvin only gapes at you, completely stunned as you continue. “From the moment I met you, you never failed to amaze me. Everything with you has been so spontaneous and fun—it’s all so new to me. But I don’t hate it. I wanna experience more with you, Gyuvin. I wanna be with you—for real, this time.”

The silence, accompanied by the squawks of the birds in the sky, drops you into reality as your skin runs hot from embarrassment. Gyuvin only gulps, his hold on your waist tightening ever so slightly. His eyes gaze into yours, practically forming into hearts as he pulls you close.

“God—I like you so much, y/n” Gyuvin’s chest buzzed with excitement as he peppered small kisses all over your face. Your heated, flushed face. You reach up to play with his brunette hair, a smile staining your cheeks.

“I like you more, dummy.”

Kim Gyuvin leaned against the doorframe of your classroom.

You skipped your way over to your boyfriend as the clamour of students packed up their belongings for the day. Eyes of every girl in your class darted towards you and Kim Gyuvin. It was the school’s latest hot topic; the campus pretty boy and the stingy class president—a match made in heaven.

It was as if your bodies were made for one another; the way you folded into each other’s arms with immense ease. Gyuvin’s arm snaked around your waist as you clung onto the nape of his neck, pulling him in for a sweet kiss.

“You got practice?” You ask after pulling away.

“Yeah.” Gyuvin huffed. “Just wanted to see you!”

“You’ll be late, Gyuvin.” You cross your arms, cocking an eyebrow. “You’re not just trying to stall and eventually skip, are you?”

Gyuvin only dragged on a long, indecisive hum before you sent a fist to his shoulder. “Go to practice!”

“Okay, fine!” Gyuvin bends down and places a quick peck on your cheek. Even as your boyfriend, Gyuvin never failed to make your heart flutter. “I’ll see you later, baby!”

As you retired back to your desk to retrieve your things, you felt the stares of various fangirls burning through you. But they didn’t matter. Unfortunately for them; you had Kim Gyuvin’s heart on lockdown, and you wouldn’t have it any other way!

465 notes · View notes

aquinoa · 4 years ago

Text

My Muse | ft. Tsukishima Kei

-`,dedicated to @hinaaspanda for her belated birthday! ⹁՛-

muse

/myo͞oz/; noun

(in Greek and Roman mythology) each of nine goddesses, the daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne, who preside over the arts and sciences.

a person or personified force who is the source of inspiration for a creative artist.

something Tsukishima thought he’d never find, until you came along.

pairing: Art Student!Tsukishima x Art Student!Reader (female)

genre: Art School!AU, fluff, angst if you squint

word count: 6345

warning: swearing, drinking, like one instance of hinting at the devil’s tango

A shaky breath escaped your lips as you braced yourself for your class' relentless nitpicking of your latest painting. Group critiques were the one thing you dreaded the most about art school.

"Could you explain your reasoning for that type of brushstroke?"

"The message is intriguing, but I'm not so sure about the techniques you used for the foreground portray what you intended."

"The colour scheme seems random." It's been over a month into the semester, but you could never get used to being in the hot seat and facing the criticisms of your peers.

"It looks like a lame Cy Twombly imitation to me. Did you do this in, what— five minutes?" This comment from a certain classmate particularly bothered you. You turned to glare at the culprit.

"Kei Tsukishima! Constructive criticism only, please." The art professor gasped. "How about you go next for your critique?" Tsukishima sighed and shifted his easel, revealing to the class his assignment.

As always, his canvas contained a masterpiece. His technical skills were insanely advanced and the whole class knew it; they could not keep quiet it about it during his crit. His own explanation for it, however, was lacklustre. Most of his responses to comments were the likes of "I don't know," or "I just felt like it." To you, that might've been what aggravated you about Tsukishima the most—he was so gifted, but he treated his pieces as if they were mere doodles. If only you had even a percentage of his technical skills.

You ruminated in your thoughts, as other students continued with their critiques until class ended. In the midst of the class packing up and leaving the studio, your eyes glanced over to Tsukishima a couple of seats down. His eyes eventually meet yours as he passed by, noticing how irritated you still were.

"Can I help you?" He asked.

"I'll have you know that painting took a long time to make." You began. "What you said during my crit stung a bit."

"It's called a critique, pipsqueak. What else do you want?" He rolled his eyes, turning his back to you and headed toward the exit.

"I'm not a pipsqueak!" You shrilled, jolting up from your seat. You took a deep breath. "At least be more considerate in my critique. Like—give me a specific thing to improve on?" The boy paused just before the doorway, his back still to you.

"Y/N, was it?" He asked.

"Yeah."

"Work on your hatching or something. Gives it more depth." He muttered before walking out. You glanced back at your piece for a second before tucking it away in your case and exiting the studio.

—&

Your body shivered from the evening breeze as you walked back to your apartment. As you rummaged for your keys in front of your door, a cheery voice greeted you from the next door down.

"Oi, Y/N!"

"Yamaguchi!" You beamed. Yamaguchi, your neighbour, was always a ray of sunshine. "How's your essay coming along?"

"Actually, I just submitted it earlier today! So, fingers crossed for that coveted C+!" The boy chuckled before he glanced at your discouraged look and raised a brow. "What happened to you? Rough day?" You nodded, letting out a sigh.

"We had group crits today in studio class. I was able to respond to the comments, but it was obvious what they thought about my work: my technique isn't good enough. God, there was this one particular guy in my class who was just so— so insensitive about it!"

"H-hey, don't mind the haters!" Yamaguchi butted in to calm you down. "He's probably just jealous of you." You raised a brow.

"Jealous of what? It just felt like he was punching down." You looked down, letting out a sigh. "I put a lot of thought into this piece and I thought it would show."

"You're talking about that piece you worked on last week right?" You nodded, Yamaguchi's mouth gaping open. "Wait— that one is so good! I've seen art galleries where they feature a white canvas with a singular black line painted! If those can end up in galleries, you're absolutely fine!" You chuckled, before he continued. "The message behind the art piece is just as important as the piece itself, if not more. And Y/N, you put a lot of thought to the message behind each of your pieces, which is awesome! Don't be too hard on yourself."

"Thanks, Yamaguchi." You grinned. "I honestly am beyond lucky to have ended up with you as a neighbour."

"Hey, I feel like I'm the lucky one having such a talented artist as a neighbour!" The boy grinned back before bidding you goodbye. You waved back and stepped inside your apartment.

—&

"Alright, folks. Now that we're a couple of months into the semester, it's about time to talk about your final term project." The studio professor began explaining the logistics and requirements of the final project. It was essentially another painting but with higher stakes. "Keep in mind: while the technique is absolutely important, your projects also need depth and meaning. Otherwise, you are going to have quite a rough critique. Let me tell you, the other professors can be ruthless!" The professor chuckled. "Now, on with the class." You groaned. The only thing worse than being criticized on the spot by your class was getting criticized on the spot by a group of professors—actual artists. If you were gonna ace the final project, you were gonna have to grind hard.

In the middle of the period, you placed your brush on your easel to take a quick break. You took a deep breath and rolled back your shoulders before letting your eyes wandered around the class—from the wide window pane wall on your left as it welcomed the sunlight throughout the studio, to your classmates on your right as they either quietly worked on their next pieces or chatted amongst each other. Your eyes eventually fall on Tsukishima, a couple of seats from you, as he's quietly slouched over his canvas with a Filbert brush in hand.

"He's probably just jealous of you." These particular words from Yamaguchi left you baffled even after a few days since that interaction. Why would Tsukishima—that gifted asshole—be jealous of you? What could you have for him to be jealous of? Compared to his skills? If anything, you should feel jealous of h—

That was not a thought you wanted to finish. You must've stared at Tsukishima for too long, since his attention has suddenly shifted to you, with a puzzled look.

"What do you want?" He asked.

"I—" You stammered, trying to come up with an excuse. "I...was just wondering if you could...share more brush technique tips...?" You grinned feigningly. The boy glanced over at your canvas then back at you.

"Figures. Looks like you really need it." He snickered, causing you to scoff.

"God, you are hard to talk to."

"Oi, I didn't say no." He rebutted. "I can't be bothered by explaining it to you, though. Since you're already slacking off anyway, just watch me." He adjusted his glasses before focusing back on his own canvas. You rolled your eyes at the ego of this guy, but was puzzled at his odd offer. You kept your eyes on his brush and took mental notes as he continued painting. You were fascinated by the advanced brush techniques he applied as if it was child's play. After watching his brush for a while, your eyes eventually wandered over to his hand. Then to his broad shoulders. Then to the pale nape of his neck. Then to his short, ruffled, blonde hair. Then to the golden-brown eyes behind his glasses, a little sorry that they a lack a glint to them.

"Tsukishima! Do you mind if I talk to you for a second?" The professor asked as she walked up to his easel. It was more than enough to snap you out of your gaze. You darted your head back to your own easel and continued to work away at your canvas, with your flustered confusion blocking out Tsukishima's conversation with the professor. Why did he leave you in such a daze just now?

When the clock signaled the end of class, the class began to pack up. As you put your paint away, you glanced over at Tsukishima once more as he quickly packed up his supplies. This time, he looked more annoyed than usual.

"Oi, Tsukishima." You called to him. "What did the professor talk to you about?"

"None of your business." He retorted without batting an eye as he grabbed his bag and walked out of the studio without another word. Quite rude, but he seemed in a bad mood, so you disregarded it. You grabbed your things and left the studio to continue with the rest of your day.

—&

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

You jolted awake from the knock on your door. You reached for your phone to check the time—it was noon. It was only mere hours ago when you finished pulling an all-nighter to work on an assignment because your inspiration apparently likes to strike at 3am. The knocking continued. You groaned as you sat up and grudgingly made your way over to the front door. You opened the door and peeked out to find a tall, familiar figure standing off to your left.

"Tsukishima?!" For the last few classes, your interactions with Tsukishima have been scarce. He'd somehow manage to insert an insult whenever you'd ask him a question. There were also moments in class where you swore you felt a glance coming from his direction, but when you turned your head to him, he was occupied with his canvas. Seeing him now at your doorstep was a surreal experience.

"Y/N?" He looked at you quizzically. "You live here? Whatever. What do you want?"

"What do you mean "What do you want?"," You mocked sluggishly. "You knocked on my door— what do you want?"

"Wait, you thought I knocked on your door? Dumbass." He snickered. You rolled your eyes and hit his arm.

"I'm too tired for this, Kei." You retorted, leaning against the door frame. "Who are you here to see, then?"

"I'm here to see a friend." He pointed over to Yamaguchi's door and—as if on cue—his door opened and a frantic Yamaguchi stepped out.

"S-sorry, Tsukki!" Yamaguchi shrilled. "My readings took longer than I expected!" He caught sight of you and waved. "Oh! Hi Y/N! I see you've met Tsukki…shima." He chuckled softly.

"Hey Yamaguchi!" You waved back. "Wait, you call him Tsu—that's so cute! I wanna call him that too!" Tsukishima furiously shook his head.

"No way I'm letting anyone else call me Tsukki. I only make an exception for Yamaguchi." He sighed, turning to Yamaguchi. "She's in my studio art class."

"Unfortunately." You muttered under your breath.

"Oi, I heard that." Tsukishima glared.

"Hey Yamaguchi, how do you know Tsukki?" You asked, teasingly emphasizing the latter name. Yamaguchi chuckled.

"Oh, I've been friends with Tsukki since we were young!"

"That's insane. You're way too nice to be hanging around Tsukki."

"Y/N, I will tell Yamaguchi you thought I was knocking on your door, if you don't stop calling me Tsukki." Tsukishima threatened.

"You just did though." You furrowed your brows.

"Wait Y/N, did you just wake up?" Yamaguchi asked.

"Yeah, Tsukki woke me up." You pouted.

"Serves you right, pipsqueak." Tsukishima scoffed.

"Oi, I'm no pipsqueak! It's not my fault you tower over everyone, you bean pole."

"I'd rather be a bean pole—if it means not being caught in public with those on." He pointed down at your panda slippers. You gasped theatrically.

"How dare you insult my precious pandas?"

"Alright, you two!" Yamaguchi finally chimed in. "I get it. You two fight like a married couple. Horribly, I might add." He chuckled, causing both you and Tsukishima to scoff. "Anyways Tsukki, let's get going and let Y/N get some rest." Yamaguchi bid you goodbye, while Tsukishima gave you one last glance before he turned around and followed the other. "Seriously, Tsukki. Just use the doorbell next time!" You chuckled, hearing your neighbour lecture the bean pole as they walked away.

When you stepped back into your apartment, you rubbed the nape of your neck. You've almost forgotten why you've antagonized Tsukishima so much. Aside from the rocky start and the constant teasing, he's never been inherently bad to you. It's almost as if he's nice to you in his own, subtle way.

Nah. It must've been the sleep deprivation talking. You let out another yawn and went back to get some more shut-eye.

—&

The deadline for the studio class' term project was approaching. For the past couple of weeks, you've often found yourself spending late evenings painting away alone in the studio after class. The warm, quiet atmosphere of the studio with golden rays shining through the window pane as the sun set was where you've lately felt the most motivated. One particular evening in the studio, you were stuck on how to execute a certain portion of your painting's foreground. If you were going to impress the professors during your term project critique, you had to go above and beyond with your technique, considering your track record of your mediocre group critiques. You leaned your head back along with a sigh. You tapped the handle of your paintbrush on your temple, wishing for an idea.

"Y/N?" Startled, you turned to the familiar, baritone voice stood by the studio doorway.

"Tsukishima? H-how long have you been there?"

"Relax, I'm just here to pick up some paint that I forgot." You sighed and turned back to your canvas. He walked over to the supply shelves behind you to grab a few tubes of paint, placing them in his bag, before turning to you. After a while, you couldn't help but feel irked by the boy looking over your shoulder from behind.

"So—" You decided to break the silence. "It's still a work in progress, but what do you think of it?"

"Are you sure you want to know?" He snickered, causing you to groan. At this point, you've grown desensitized of his teasing.

"I'm serious. I want to do well for the term project. I'm just stuck on how to paint this part of the foreground." You motioned to the portion of the canvas before the boy stepped closer to take another look at your painting.

"Give me your brush." You reached out your brush to him without batting an eye, expecting him to take it. To your surprise, you instead felt his hand firmly gripping onto yours.

"Ts-Tsukishima?" You froze, bewitched by his sudden touch. His hand guided you and the brush throughout the canvas, using colour combinations and brush strokes foreign to you, but seemingly simple to him. Your eyes couldn't help but focus on his hand that was clung onto yours. You held your breath. At that moment, it felt like time stood still. When he finished, he gently released your hand. The warmth of his touch lingered on your hand—and on your mind—for a bit longer. He briefly explained the techniques he applied, when he noticed your still flustered reaction.

"Huh— oi, don't get the wrong idea. It was the only way I could've done it without you getting in trouble for cheating or something." He rebutted, seemingly unfazed by his actions. "Besides, you probably wouldn't have been able to do it if I just explained it to you."

"Whatever." You rolled your eyes, any flustered feelings you felt faded away. You looked back at the portion of your canvas just painted. As usual, Tsukishima's methods were impressive and helpful. "Thanks." You uttered under your breath, before continuing to work. He nodded before looking out the window.

"It's getting late. Shouldn't you head home?" He asked as he picked up his bag, about to leave.

"It’s fine," You shook your head, keeping your eyes on your canvas. "I've gone home later than this in the past. I have to work on this." The boy sighed and paused before reaching for your portfolio case.

"I didn't know you were this stubborn too." He dangled your portfolio case and made his way out the studio. "It's time to call it a day if you want this back." You turned to him as he slung your portfolio case over his shoulder with a sly smirk before stepping out the studio. You groaned.

"Oi! Come back here!" You shoved your supplies into your bag, slipped off your apron and grabbed your canvas before rushing out the studio to catch up to him as he kept his leisurely pace. Panting, you caught up to him and snatched your portfolio case back. "What the hell, Tsukishima?" He snickered.

"I'm heading over to Yamaguchi's place anyway, so I wasn't actually going to run away with it."

"You better not have. Wait— why are you headed to Yamaguchi's so late?"

"I'm staying over. My brother's bringing his girlfriend over to our house tonight, so you already know what's bound to happen." He shuddered. "Frankly, I don't want to hear any of that shit." You chuckled.

—&

A serene silence fell upon the two. Before you knew it, you found yourself walking back to the apartment complex together. As you walked, you leaned your head back and took a breath of the evening breeze. You turned your head to Tsukishima, who's engrossed himself in his music, a bit of which you could almost hear from his headphones. You felt your cheeks warm up. Walking beside him right now made you reminisce of the countless romantic scenes you've read where the boy walks the girl home. You shook your head. No, this wasn't one of those tales.

"Why are you looking at me this time?" Tsukishima raised a brow at you, slinging his headphones around his neck. "You've been doing that a lot lately."

"Oh—" You scratched your head. "I swear it's just a coincidence. Maybe you're just looking at me all the time." He rolled his eyes before another silence fell upon the two. A thought suddenly crossed your mind. "I was just wondering, remember when you stormed off after the professor talked to you?"

"Hm."

"What happened? Did she say something bad?" The boy suddenly grimaced. Your curiosity grew, but regretted asking him. He let out a sigh.

"She's concerned about how I'll do in the final term project. That my track record of 'shallow responses' during my crits indicate the kind of work I'll bring to the final critique. And that I didn't feel 'inspired' enough." He shrugged. "As long as I paint something impressive to my audience, I should do fine."

It dawned on you that he has the exact opposite dilemma as you. While you lacked the technique, yet strived in the depth of your pieces, he had insanely advanced skills, but struggled to find drive.

"Don't you want to do more than 'fine', though?" You began. "I mean—isn't that the point of art? To express that of which your muse—let's say—has inspired you?"

"My muse?" Tsukishima raised a brow.

"Yeah, your muse! Something—or someone—that is a source of inspiration for you." He paused, gazing at you before he tsked.

"Odd."

"What do you mean 'odd'?" You furrowed you brows, mocking his tone. "You must have a muse. Something you like that makes you go 'I want to paint something based on that'?" He shook his head. "I don't buy it. Tell me, Kei. You like music, right? Doesn't it make you feel things and envision things when you listen to it?"

"I guess, but it doesn't make me want to paint it."

"Scratch that, then. How about, I'll give you an example of a muse of mine:" You pointed upward. "that."

"Huh—" He looked up as well. "The sky?" You nodded.

"I love the sky. It gives you something different everyday. From the glint of the stars out tonight, the funny shapes you make out from clouds, to the gorgeous colours that sunsets reveal—which is a personal favourite." You sighed in glee.

"Anyone can paint a sunset, though." He rebutted. "I just don't see how the sky would impress the professors. Wouldn't it make you a more worthwhile artist to show off the most challenging techniques you can pull off to succeed?" You gritted your teeth.

"It's not about what you paint—it's why you're painting it!" Your plead echoed around both of you. This took Tsukishima aback. You lowered your head, your heart sinking. It was as if every small, condescending remark he's said has piled up and overwhelmed you. "Not everyone is as gifted as you, Tsukishima." You whimpered softly. "I've always admired your talent." Silence fell once more.

"Y/N, I—"

"You know I have been practicing the things you've taught me. I know I'm not the best at them, but at least I'm improving. At least I'm trying." There was a shakiness growing in your voice. "I don't know if I'm upset at you or at myself, but—" As you two approached the apartment complex, you turned to the boy one last time with a pained look in your eyes. "but can't you be even the tiniest bit considerate of me?" You turned your back to him and marched back into your apartment, slamming the door shut behind you.

Tsukishima lowered his head, gritted his teeth, and cursed under his breath as Yamaguchi let him inside as well.

—&

For the next couple of weeks, you and Tsukishima ceased talking to each other, not even looking at each other's way. It perplexed you why you've been as affected by him as you were that night. Maybe it was your confusion from how he constantly teetered between belittling you and helping you. Maybe it was your disappointment that you've invested yourself to him but he never reciprocated in the end, but never again. You've convinced yourself that he was nothing more but a mere classmate from studio class—always has been and always will be.

The end of the term was nearly approaching and the stress continued to pile up. You've been dedicating much more time into perfecting your art pieces for the final project. One particular weekend, cooped up in your apartment while trying to finish up your painting, you hit upon some good ol' artist block. You scratched your head as you tried to find inspiration. You peeked out your window. Nothing but gray clouds today. You turned back to your canvas, frustrated at how you feel you're so close to finishing, yet so far. Eyeing the details, you noticed the particular spot that Tsukishima added that evening in the studio. Your flustered feelings began to creep back into your mind.

Nope.

You ruffled your hair furiously before wailing out a long, exasperated scream for what felt like forever. Once you calmed down, you leaned back onto your seat. Oddly enough, screaming helped you clear your thoughts and frustrations. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes.

The silence was broken by a sudden, frantic knocking on your door. You walked over and opened the door to find a concerned Yamaguchi.

"Y/N! I heard screaming. A-are you okay?" He asked frantically.

"Yamaguchi! I'm fine, sorry about that." You laughed nervously as you rubbed the nape of your neck. "I was just blowing off steam from the stress of school, I guess." Your neighbour sighed in relief.

"Man, Y/N. You scared me!" He complained. "It's getting that tense, huh?" You nodded. He took notice of your messy hair and your weary demeanor. "You sure look like you need a break. " He chuckled.

"Gee thanks, Yamaguchi."

"Oh!" His eyes suddenly brightened up before placing a hand on your shoulder. "Come over and have a drink or two! It's the weekend, you should let loose!" A drink was probably what you needed right now, anyway.

"Yeah, that sounds pretty nice." You conceded. Yamaguchi beamed in response. You closed your door and followed your neighbour into his unit.

"Make yourself at home." Yamaguchi made his way to the fridge. "I'll grab drinks. Any preferences?"

"The hardest ones you've got." You both laughed.

"Gotcha." You sat down on the couch and leaned back. You glanced around. You spot a familiar set of brushes and paints—the ones from the studio. You looked around once more until you spotted him sat by the balcony.

"Tsukishima?" You caught the blonde boy in the middle of ogling at you, seemingly somewhat buzzed already. His eyes widened the moment your eyes met, and quickly looked away. He placed his headphones back on and took another swig from his bottle.

"Sorry, Y/N." Yamaguchi chimed in as he headed towards you with two red cups. "I figured if I mentioned Tsukki was staying over tonight, you'd refuse to come over." You shook your head, smiling reassuringly.

"Don't worry, Yamaguchi. He didn't hurt me or anything." You sighed. "I overreacted a bit too." He handed you a cup and sat down beside you.

"Tsukki told me what happened. He regretted being so brash with you."

"He did?" Yamaguchi nodded, glancing over at Tsukishima.

"You want to know how he's gotten so good at painting?"

"Sure."

"The thing his professor told him—that he lacks inspiration in his work—it's not unfounded. It's something he's struggled with long before he started art school. He figured that if he explored more techniques—that if he got better—he'll eventually find something to inspire him. He's gotten so talented, but he rarely feels fulfilled from his work. It's made him feel like an inadequate artist, which is why he's resorted to teasing and such."

"Oh." You frowned. "I never thought of it like that."

"Don't worry! I believe he's recently found that source of inspiration. You should see the painting he's done for your term project!" Yamaguchi leaned back on the couch. "Tsukki's never been the best at being positive or open, so you'll have to forgive him. The teasing get annoying, surely, but he means well. He's teased me since we were kids, but I've come to realize that that's how he shows he's invested in someone."

"No way—I don't buy it."

"I know it's hard to believe, but it's true! You'll see." He grinned. "I'm not sure if you'll see Super Drunk Tsukishima tonight, but he can be quite sentimental." He chuckled.

"Now that would be a sight to see." You snickered. "What kind of drunk are you, Yamaguchi?"

"There's only one way to find out, right?" He snickered as you both clinked your cups and guzzled down your drinks.

A few drinks later, it didn't take long to find yourself drunk and beside a passed-out, mumbling Yamaguchi on the couch. Zoned out, you let out a couple of hiccups. You suddenly caught a moving figure from the corner of your eye. You sluggishly turned your head to find Tsukishima stumbling to grab another bottle from the fridge. You sneered loudly.

"Tsssukki—can I call you Tsukki? I'm gonna call you Tsukki—someone should cut you off."

"Cut me off? I paced myself—" The boy rebutted, flimsily pointing at you. He hiccuped. "unlike you. Take a look at yourself, Y/N. And look what you did to Yamagusshi!"

"Pffft. He did that to himself." You cackled. He groaned before opening his bottle and shuffling back, sitting down on the balcony floor. After a second, you decided to follow him out and plop down beside him. "Tsukki, I'm sorryyy—" You turned to him and pouted. "I yelled at'cha that one time. I didn't know y'were sad tooo." Taken aback, the boy furrowed his brows, pointing the neck of his beer bottle towards you.

"Why are you sorry? I'm the one who upset you." He pointed the neck of the bottle to himself, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol. "I'm the asshole here." Your drunk ass couldn't help but burst into laughter.

"Asshole! You said 'asshole'!" You continued to cackle, leaning back too much as you began to lose balance. Before you knew it, Tsukishima reached out, catching you with one hand grasped onto your wrist and his other hand wrapped around your waist.

"Oi, be careful." He gently pulled you back upward as you continued to giggle to yourself, still seemingly unaware of his actions. You finally realized what just occurred the moment you felt his hand pull away from your waist. Flustered, you looked away for a moment and grumbled.

"You sure are an asshhole, Kei." You muttered, trying hard not to slur your words. "Y'know—you i-insult me all the ti—"

"I know, and I'm sorr—"

"But y-you also do these things that make m-my heart skip a beat—"

"Y/N—" He stammered.

"A-and I get all confused about you, and I never know what to feel—"

"Y/N."

"I mean—w-why me? Why aren't you like this to other people?"

"Because I don't care about other people." Tsukishima's words finally cut you off. You gazed at him as the moonlight lit up his flustered face. You felt his grip on your wrist slide down as he gently held your hand. He locked his eyes onto yours. You hoped your flushed cheeks from the alcohol were enough to hide your blushing as he slowly leaned his face closer.

THUD!

You both turned your head back into the main room to find Yamaguchi on the foot of the couch.

"Tsukki..." He groaned. "Bathroom...puke...n-now..." Tsukishima sighed. He looked at you once more before he stammered.

"I should go help him..." You nodded, still flustered. He released your hand as he rose to his feet and clumsily headed over to Yamaguchi to help him. You gently hit your cheeks with the palms of your hands. You figured those two would be occupied for a while, so you decided to trudge back to your apartment without bidding them goodbye. You felt as if your emotions were at their limit, anyway. It was going to be one hell of a hangover the next day.

—&

You couldn't remember a lot from that night at Yamaguchi's place, but the feeling of Tsukishima's hand grasped onto yours still lingered on your mind. You weren't sure if you were imagining it or not—or if you just wanted it to happen. None of that mattered right now; there wasn't much time left before the end of the semester. For the remainder of the time, you focused solely on schoolwork, determined on creating the best final product for your studio class' final term project to your ability. You knew you still had ways to go, but you've surely improved your technique. You were grateful to Tsukishima, but you didn't have the time to entertain anymore confusion from your emotions.

"How could I have forgotten the varnish?" You grumbled as you paced your way to the studio one day, picking up some supplies. Right before entering, you took notice of the figures already in the studio: Tsukishima in front of a small panel of art professors. You gasped and hid behind the door. His critique for the term project must've been today. You peeked your head out the door to take a closer look inside.

Your eyes couldn't help but focus on Tsukishima, surprised by how much more devotedly he seems answering the professors' comments; a huge contrast compared to his previous demeanor during previous crits in class. You smiled. It was admirable seeing him like that. You glanced over to the painting he presented. It was a beautiful depiction of the sky at dusk: a gorgeous mix of colours at sunset with an ethereal sky of stars above. Even from a distance, it wasn't hard to appreciate his mastery of technique. Another detail of the painting caught your eye: the female figure in the middle whose presence was subtle, yet significant. As you pieced together her features, you slowly realized that the figure in his painting strongly resembled you.

"Hold on—" The sound of applause and chairs scraping on the floor interrupted your train of thought. You gasped as you hid around the corner, waiting for the studio to clear. You heard the voices fading off as they walked out of the studio and waited a few moments before deciding the coast was clear. You snuck into the studio, only to find one more person across the room.

"I saw you peeking, you know." Tsukishima remarked, packing up his artwork. "You're not stealthy at all."

"I figured." You sighed. "I'm just here to pick up some varnish for my project. How did your crit go?"

"I think it went well." He rubbed the nape of his neck. "I never talked this much during crits, but it was easier since I had some inspiration to drive me."

"Hey, that's awesome! I knew you had it in you!" You grinned. "It was a beautiful painting, by the way. It's funny—for a second, I thought the person in your painting sort of looked like me." You laughed awkwardly. The boy raised a brow.

"I painted Urania, one of the Nine Muses in Greek mythology. The Muse of astronomy. So yeah—don't flatter yourself."

"I guess you took my advice literally, huh." You replied, grimacing. You went over to the supply cabinet to pick up the varnish. The boy took notice of your change in tone and scratched his head.

"Sorry. That was unnecessary."

"it's fine." Silence fell upon the studio. Tsukishima finally cleared his throat.

"I mean—that's at least what I told the professors who she was. There's a hidden layer to the painting that I didn't mention."

"What do you mean?"

"What you said earlier—that you thought Urania resembled you. It's because I painted her to resemble you, and the way you admired the sky. Did you think it was a coincidence she looked like you in a painting where I also painted what you said was your muse?"

"W-why paint me, then?" You stammered. He sighed. You sensed a change in his demeanor.

"It baffled me how each crit in class, you're always so adamant on the message of your paintings. It was something I admire about you— and something I wanted to be able to do. Through you, I learned to find inspiration from even the most mundane things." He slowly made his way across the room to you. You grew flustered.

"Tsukishima..." You took a step back, getting backed up by the wall. He stopped right in front of you, towering over you. You felt your cheeks warm up. He took the jar of varnish from your hand and tucked it in his back pocket.

"I meant what I said back at Yamaguchi's place—that I didn't care about anyone else but you. So hearing what you said that night..." A deep, golden shade of sunlight shone through the window pane and onto you as the sun began to set. You reached for Tsukishima’s shirt and gently tugged on it. He reached for your other hand and held it. He cupped his other hand on your cheek and tilted your head upward towards him. "You said you didn't believe I didn't have a muse, but I swore on it. Now—now it's different, because I've found you, Y/N." He leaned his face closer, your eyes fixed onto each other's. "You're my muse." He closed his eyes and gently pressed his lips against yours. You closed your eyes and kissed back. As your kisses grew deeper, you tugged on his shirt a bit stronger to pull his body closer to yours. He intertwined your fingers together, holding each other's hand tighter. This all felt right. Eventually, you lightly pulled away from each other, panting softly. You fixed your gaze on his golden-brown eyes once more. There was now a strong glint to them, unlike before. It made you happy.

"I'm honoured to be your muse, Kei." You softly replied, grinning widely. Hearing your reply, Tsukishima let out a soft laugh—it was the happiest you've seen him look. You liked seeing him this happy. He sighed.

"Here." He let go of your hand to reach for his back pocket and return the jar of varnish. "I’ll walk you home. I'm staying over at Yamaguchi's tonight." You took the jar and tucked it away in your bag. He followed you out of the studio and you began walking back to the apartment complex together.

"Your brother brought his girlfriend over again?" He nodded. "That's been happening more frequently. Doesn't it get annoying?"

"A bit. It's fine, though—" He leaned closer and whispered in your ear. "Soon enough, I might have to kick him out this time." He smirked. Growing flustered again, you gasped.

"Tsukishima, you pervert!" He sneered before speeding up his pace and leaving you behind. You scoffed, chasing after him. "Oi, get back here!"

—&

You gently slapped your cheeks with the palms of your hands—psyching yourself up. Your critique for your final term project is mere minutes away. You muttered to yourself as you paced back and forth in front of the studio.

"I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this."

"You can do this." Tsukishima repeated, having your painting in hand. "You have nothing to worry about."

"What if it's not good enough?" You fretted.

"You've worked so hard this whole term. I mean, look at this." He took another look at the canvas. "It's both meticulous and insightful. They'll love it."

"Are you su—" He promptly handed you back the canvas, interrupting you.

"They'll love it." He repeated once more. He leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. "There. Only because you can't reach me from down there." He snickered, while you rolled your eyes. You heard a voice from the studio call your name. "Go knock 'em dead." You smiled at him once more before stepping into the studio. A shaky breath escaped your lips as you braced yourself for the professors' relentless nitpicking of your latest painting. Group critiques were the one thing you dreaded the most about art school. However, now with better faith in your skills and in your muse, you figured you'll be alright.

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