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sweethartlullaby · 2 months

Text

your hidden words

word count: 952 genre/theme: fluff as always, imagine whoever you would like... sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist

The snow falls gently outside of the window and you wonder what each snowflake feels when it touches the ground.

“You ready?” His voice pulls you back to the studio, where all the blinding lights are pointed at both of you. You smile at him nervously and he returns it.

“3.”

Two.

“1.”

“Welcome back to the final season of our podcast…” You smile at the camera as your counterpart introduces the both of you. After your introduction, he brings up the phrase of the day.

“We’re learning how to use ‘I’m not…’ today.”

There’s something strange about how you feel today. Maybe it’s because it’s because the podcast you’ve held dear to your heart is ending soon. But you know it’s probably because this is the last week you will spend with him.

Your heart aches at the thought that’s been keeping you up at night.

“So, how do we say ‘I’m not lying.’ in this language?” He turns to you for an answer that your mind is scrambling to get. Your eyes drift to his flashcards and immediately answer, smile and all.

He grins at you and turns back to the camera. When the camera pans onto you, he grabs the hand on your lap and gives it a light squeeze, shooting a blush up your cheeks. He pulls away as soon as the camera zooms out to the both of you.

“And a lot of boys like to use, ‘You’re beautiful, I’m not lying.’ as their pickup line.” You say and he laughs.

“Do you disagree?” You turn to him and he shakes his head.

“Just so our viewers know, I’ve never used such a tacky line before.”

“Oh, really?” You ask sarcastically and he raises an eyebrow at you, the grin still plastered on his face. “Tell us, what is your secret technique.” He resists at first but when he eventually gives in, he turns to you and says…

“I’m not lying, I think your hand fits perfectly with mine.” His eyes burrow into yours and it takes you a few seconds to tap out and chuckle, trying to wave off his strong gaze with your hand.

“I hate to break it to you, but that’s just as tacky.” You say and he laughs. You’re fidgeting with your own fingers underneath the table as you struggle with not bursting at the seams for the last five minutes of this episode.

When the lights come back on and everyone starts packing, you finally let out a short breath and your co-star turns to you, still grinning.

“You can stop smiling now. The cameras are off.” You joke and he shakes his head.

“You haven’t answered me.”

“I wasn’t aware you asked a question.” You raised an eyebrow and he chewed down on his lip as his arms crossed upon his broad chest.

“You’re right, it wasn’t really a question, much more an invitation.” You’re still lost, so you lean in and look up at him, raising both eyebrows this time. He chuckles and lowers his lips to your ears, whispering sweet words.

“Do you want to check if your hand fits perfectly with mine?” Your cheeks warm and you have to clench your hands again, but before you can, his fingers have slid into the gaps between yours, eliciting a short gasp from you.

You turn to him sharply, eyes widened with alert, but he looks calm and if anything, his smile is wider.

“Someone will-”

“Bye you two! Thank you for your hard work!” The last crew member leaves and it is just the two of you. He pulls you just an inch closer and he can’t seem to take his eyes off of you.

You, likewise.

“A-Aren’t you going home?” You raise yourself high, even after stuttering.

“You’re so cute when you’re nervous.” He whispers and he brushes a few strands of hair away from your neck, tucking them behind your ear.

“The episode is over. You don’t have to tell me more of your tacky one-liners.” You mumble and you feel yourself closing in on him.

“Then tell me,” He pulls away just as you feel his breath on your skin and he sits on his chair. “Do you think I’m saying this for the episode?” His hand is still holding onto yours as he gazes into you endearingly. He pulls you closer and you let him, close to sitting on the chair next to him…

Or his lap.

You try to hide your smile and he pulls you onto his seat, letting you rest on top of his thighs.

“You’re not fighting me.” He mumbles.

“Maybe I’m just too nice.” You say and cock your head to the side.

“Or maybe you want to accept my invitation?” You can’t tell if it’s him being a tease or if it’s hope that you let him in. Regardless, you find yourself nearing your lips to his. Your eyes flick to his and you have to hand it to him, he’s hiding all nervousness really well, even though his pupils are shaking.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He begs and you can’t help but smile.

“Why?”

“It does things to me.” His words come out hot and breathy, and you feel a swirl in your stomach, a tingling in your fingers.

“Oh,” Your eyes soften. “What’s going to happen if I actually take your hand?” His lip darts out to lick his lower lip, to which the swirling intensifies.

“Please do it.” He pleads and you almost laugh at how quick he switches. “Please take my hand.”

“Okay sweet boy.” You mutter and slowly take his free hand, lining your fingers up with his. “Ask me out.”

a/n: yay! she finally wrote!

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sweethartlullaby · 3 months

Text

what i wanted you to tell me

word count: 860 genre/theme: angst, language! as always, imagine whoever you would like... sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist

He looks furious and the pinch in your gut is telling you to run, but you stand your ground, with tears slipping down your skin and shaking fists.

“You used me.” You whisper and he whips his head to you, eyes blazing with the utmost fury. “You can’t even lie to yourself about it because you know it too.” Your lungs heave as your eyes burrow into him, digging into his icy heart.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“How can I not?” You demand with a roar clawing out of your throat. “I thought you were everything. I wanted you to be everything.” You almost yell. “And you,” The sigh that comes out resembles the gust of winds that accompany tornadoes. “You saw me as nothing more than just some hotel; that you could stay in when you wanted and you just left when you felt like it, no commitment, no strings, just when you wanted a change of scenery.”

He shakes his head and sighs but his sounds like laughter, and it makes your stomach churn.

“You don’t get it.” He says and there’s an upset smile on his face.

“No, you don’t get it. You don’t get how you treated me like absolute shit and you’re still in denial about it.” Anger boils within you as you point an accusing finger at you. His head shakes the whole time you speak, even as he drags a hand down his face. “I don’t understand what ego you must have for it to be this difficult to admit that you fucked-”

“I would have fucking stayed.”

The air seems to whoosh out of your lungs within the second that follows his words. He is looking anywhere but you and when the light shines on his face the right way, you see the wet streaks under his eyes.

“I wanted you.” He looks down and for some reason, you find yourself making your way to him. “As much as you wanted me.” The steps stop. You’ve heard this before. It was there when you asked him that night in the empty restaurant, whether he really loved you. And when the both of you walked along the beach, and you asked if this was all a dream. But it was there when he left you and told you that he didn’t want this anymore.

It was then you questioned whether it was all a lie.

Your senses can’t lie.

But he can.

And just like then, you still find yourself drawn to him.

“I wanted it to be us.” He finally faces you and the smile is gone.

“You’re lying.”

He sighs out and he shakes his head. “You know what your problem is?” He clenches his jaw and you cross your arms, all sentiment of him erased.

“You don’t fucking see yourself the way everyone else does. You keep talking about how no one likes you back and how no one would ever appreciate you in the way that you wanted to be appreciated.”

“And you know what that does? That clouds your fucking vision.”

You try not to shake from his words.

“No, I wanted you. I tried my ultimate best to give you what it was you deserved. But I can’t fucking change your mind! I can’t erase all the evidence that you have in your head for you to just see me!” He waves his arms in the air. His eyes haven’t left you until now.

“I loved you and that night broke me as much as it did you.”

“But you still did it.” You quickly say.

“I had to.” You shake your head.

“That’s where we’re different. You would’ve fought for me because you knew I was doing the same for you. You would’ve told me what you were so afraid of because then, I would’ve held your fucking hand and I would’ve walked us through it.”

“You’re right, my vision is clouded. But you can’t blame me when you added to this pile of evidence. There were a hundred different ways you could’ve done it. There are tons of possibilities that could have emerged from us.”

“You could’ve not been an asshole. You could’ve stayed with me. You could’ve just left me alone. You could’ve spared me from yourself.” His face drops at the last few words and you feel a twinge of guilt.

“You don’t get to blame me after everything. You don’t get to walk away and put it all on my soul, on my doing, on my being!” You hiss. “I spent years trying to erase you while you threw yourself into other’s beds. It doesn’t make sense. I can’t see the way your words and your actions tie together.” You sigh.

“Most importantly, if you really loved me, you would’ve come back.”

“But seeing this,” You feel your heart drop as you realize that it is never going to happen. This isn’t going to be the fairytale ending you wanted all those years ago. “I know that we’ll never work.”

You feel it, in the air, in your bones.

It isn't only your heart that broke from those words.

a/n: a short one! i did want this to be a makeup story but for some reason i'm kind of leaning more into these sad ones more hehe. maybe i might write like a makeup thing but i'm not sure yet! so if you really want it, then let me know <3

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sweethartlullaby · 3 months

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everything hurts more in the cold

word count: 216 genre/theme: angst as always, imagine whoever you would like... sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist

like when i stubbed my toe on the door and the burn lasted longer than it usually did or when my fingers slammed against the railing and it felt number for so much longer i always thought that it was because it had so much more to regain when it was frozen as if my organs had to shake off the ice that built up from the blizzards it faced but that didn’t make sense when you left there are so many blankets of protection around my heart how did it still get frozen? maybe the air that carried your words that i breathed branched from my lungs like a pernicious venom that waited for the best moment to strike and it didn’t feel like my toe or finger did it was far more scathing leaving blisters everywhere that stung but weren’t enough for me to break completely i kept thinking you were going to turn around that you would put a bandaid above each cut but you let the cold ache me was it too much for you to watch? how do you think it felt? i couldn’t even feel the caress of the first snowfall that night each one falling to cradle me with their little arms when i wished i was in yours

a/n: a short one! i hope you enjoyed and i'd love to hear who you thought of!

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sweethartlullaby · 3 months

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the just world belief

word count: 474 genre/theme: psychopathic reader! mention of knife as always, imagine whoever you would like... sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist

“My mom used to say that good things happen to good people and bad things happen to bad people. So what I don’t understand is, what did I do to deserve this?” You drag the knife across the fence, each tap echoing in this basement.

“What was it that I did that was so bad that you had to do this to me?” The disbelief in your chuckle cannot be hidden. “I don’t get it. I followed the rules, I was a nice person, I sat quietly, I watched, and I never fought.” You crouched in front of him and pushed his chin up with the blade, watching as he winced from being so close to something so deadly.

“So why do you treat me like I’m the scum under your shoe? Why do you say things to me as if I deserve them? Why do you tell me to go to hell when all I’ve done is give?” You beg but he doesn’t say anything. All your anger has dissipated and seeing him in fear, tied up makes you only think about kissing him again.

“I thought, my mom must be wrong. There must be something, a glitch in the system or a switch of the rules when I wasn’t looking.” You sigh. “I said to myself, you can’t be a bad thing either. You can’t be something that I will never want to look at again. You must be good because I was good.” A maniac laugh shoots out of your throat and you must’ve been digging the blade deeper because he groans.

“Don’t you get it?” You lean closer and hiss. “It doesn’t fucking make sense. The puzzle doesn’t fit.”

“You’re either good and you get good things or you’re bad and you get bad things. So which is it?” When he doesn’t answer, you push it deeper into his skin, just enough to not see red.

Still nothing.

“Disappointing.” You sigh and pull it away just a bit but stay in front of him. “I told myself, maybe you’re just a good person who had to do a bad thing. You would never hurt me, right?” You look into his eyes, the way that made him be able to stare into you for hours. Even now, you can see it, the urge for him to lunge at you and devour you. A smile creeps up your face as you near his ears and whisper, “But you know what? Good people don’t do bad things. So you’re not a good person.”

You pull back just a bit before you push your lips onto his, and surprisingly, he’s kissing you back. You would let this go on forever if you could, but you pull away and wrap the tie around his face again, silencing him.

“If only you listened to my mom.”

a/n: i'm writing a paper for my class and i thought about this while reading about this. i thought it was going to be sappy and sad but i decided to write this instead! i hope you enjoyed.

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sweethartlullaby · 3 months

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love in the rain

word count: 251 genre/theme: fluff, acts of service as always, imagine whoever you would like...

The deep puddles make you wonder for the hundredth time, when will they fix this road?

You stare at the water, figuring out where to step to avoid getting soaked. But just as you take your first few steps, your shoelace comes undone and drowns in the puddle.

You immediately groan and quickly move to dry land as your boyfriend follows you from behind, wondering why you look so annoyed. You lift your shoe and he keeps his eyebrow raised.

"Aren't you going to tie your shoelaces?" He asks and you stare at the soggy string, wincing to yourself as you imagine touching it.

"It's all wet and gross now." You whine and after a pause, he laughs.

"Baby," He comes near you and kisses your cheek. "It'll get dirtier if you leave it like that."

"Well, I'm not touching it! Do you see that?" You point as city water drips.

"Baby," He sighs and crouches in front of you before he takes the two strings and ties them together, twice.

"But," You start to protest but he shushes you. You watch in awe as he does his magic, holding the soggy strings with no hint of disgust.

"I know you'll never touch these shoes again if it gets any dirtier." You blink up at him and he smiles as he wipes his fingers on his jacket.

"But your hands are dirty now." You say and he laughs. "It's a bit of dirt for your comfort. Don't worry about me, princess."

a/n: a fluff! i thought of this one when i was walking to work and i saw a few girls walking together and one of their laces came undone.

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sweethartlullaby · 4 months

Note

heyyy! loved the « 17 again with you » and would loveee a part 2!

word count: 2969 genre/theme: angst, young love as always, imagine whoever you would like... sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist

The pills slide down his throat easily as they have done so the previous hundred times. The house is silent at this time of the night. Being back home has its perks, endless food and attention after being away for so long are nice but best of all, he gets to sleep in his bed.

After he hides the pills in the drawer, he stares at the ceiling again. Meeting you at the party is something he had not fully thought about. He had been avoiding the thought of you for a week now; even the slightest reminder of you made him immediately seek distraction.

He wishes he said more to you, whether it’s a lame comeback or to beg on his knees for you to talk to him. He just wishes he had said more.

When he has tossed and turned for about two hours, he finally takes out his phone and scrolls to your number. The last text still being yours, he types. Once a paragraph has been created, he reaches to press send but his thumb stops just above the arrow.

He reads it again and fixes a few typos but still can’t bring himself to send it. Each time his thumb hovers above the arrow, he goes back and re-reads his paragraph.

Too pathetic.

Too needy.

Too angry.

Too long.

Once it’s been thirty minutes of this back and forth with himself, he finally turns his phone off in defeat and hides under the blanket.

It wasn’t like she was ever going to read it anyway.

“You don’t understand!” He doesn’t like when his mother raises her voice. It makes him feel like a child again and he isn’t that. He isn’t someone who should be yelled at as if he doesn’t know any better.

He does know better.

“This won’t end well.” He clenches his fist under the table. He knows what she means. He knows her fear of him getting hurt. He was afraid too but he had put that past him when he decided to be with you.

“You’re going to regret it if you stay with her. There’s nothing that should be stopping you from being the best.” He chews on the inside of his cheek. He wants to say something. He wants to defend you and explain that you would never hold him back. But nothing comes out.

“Do what’s best for you.” His mother sits beside him and takes his hand into hers. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.” She whispers and even though she has angered him so much in one night, he still feels the sincerity in her voice. With nothing else to say, he just nods.

“You’ve grown taller.” Someone remarks but he doesn’t catch who it’s from. He’s back at his high school again and fortunately, he hasn’t had the need to break down in the bathroom. “Will you be staying-”

The door behind his friend opens and you step out. Everything goes silent, even his heart feels like it has stopped beating. Your eyes touch his but it’s too quick to read. You pass a bag to one of the teachers and say something but it all sounds muffled to his ears. He watches in silence as you quickly make your leave, leaving him and the previous crowd.

“She works here?” Someone asks.

“No, she’s just dropping something off. I think she might be leaving somewhere soon.” He looks down at his shoes because he knows that if he lets his eyes wander, they will follow your path out of his presence.

Once he is back in his car, he takes his phone out and goes to your number, looking back at the paragraph he meant to send.

Only, it’s no longer in the message box and is its own text. He stares at it for a few seconds and he thinks it isn’t real but then he sees that you’ve read the message.

There’s no response at all.

Just his long paragraph of feelings and the word ‘Seen’ underneath.

His heart is beating so fast that he can feel it. The phone in his hands is starting to slip from his fingers as his body begins to heat. He throws his phone onto the seat beside him and looks for the tube of pills he always keeps for times like this; when his heart is beating in his ears and he can’t breathe properly, when the car sways around him and his hands are shaking so much.

Did you look annoyed? Were you judging him just now? That text had been up for days now. And you clearly saw it. Were you mad at him?

It takes him five minutes to calm down and even then, he still needs to grip the steering wheel to stop trembling. His eyes are looking only straight ahead and he only looks away when he hears a tap on his window.

Albeit the initial hesitation, he eventually rolls his window down for you.

“Hey, sorry about this but you’re kind of parked behind my car.” You say and point to the vehicle in front of him and his eyes immediately widen. Did you see him?

“O-Oh, right. I’ll move.” You stop him before he can fully roll up the window.

“Are you okay?” The years have gone by and much has changed but he can still tell when you’re trying to hide something and if he is right, you’re trying to not let your concern show. His mouth opens to speak but nothing comes out. He hasn’t been this close to you for a while. Even on the balcony that night, he stayed away because of the cigarette smoke. You smell just like how he remembered, maybe even sweeter.

“Okay.” You sigh and leave him, still speechless. He drives his car away, trying his best not to care whether you are behind him.

He stares at you, love oozing out of his gaze. It’s times like this when he realizes that it truly doesn’t get any better. He wants to be near you forever.

“Do you still get shaky a lot?” You whisper and he brushes the hair away from your face.

“Honey, I told you not to worry.” You huff but the hair falls on your face anyway.

“How can I not worry when you’re having these attacks?” He grins and kisses your nose.

“I promise I’m alright.” He isn’t lying. His tremors have pretty much disappeared ever since you forced him to see someone about it.

“I’ll know if you’re hiding something.” You say and he lifts his cheek off the table and pulls you onto him.

“What about you, hm? Do you still cry a lot?” He asks and you shrug.

“So I can’t lie but you can?” He asks and you purse your lips.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” You hop to face him but he just shakes his head.

“What happened?” He murmurs, searching her face for answers.

“Same old, same old.” She sighs and falls back onto him. “I don’t really want to spend time talking about it when I’m with you.” He hesitates putting his arms around you at first but then you pull them to wrap around you anyway. He bites down on his lip, trying to think of the best way to question you. You never want to talk about what happens at home, saying it’s a waste. He never really sees the way you are when things at home get bad. You always seem to keep a smile up when he’s around. And as much as he loves your smile, he wishes you would let your guard down a bit.

“I can hear you thinking.”

“I just,” He pauses but your eyes tell him to go on. “I’m here for you, you know.” You peel yourself away from him and he suddenly feels like he’s said the wrong thing. You sigh and he thinks you’re about to leave.

“I know.” You say but he doesn’t feel the calm settle in yet. “There’s just so much that goes on at home.” You look into him. “I don’t any of that to interrupt us.” He sighs and wraps his arms around you, breathing in the scent of your shampoo.

The two of you have always been each others’ other half. Your excitement for anything adds to the tranquility of his life and his peace adds to your chaos. He needs you to make his life more than just what it is and you need him to make your life hurt less.

Maybe that’s why it is so hard to push you to talk to him.

Maybe that’s why it had to end.

He has grown used to the uncomfortable feeling when he sits here. Every time he came home, he would spend hours here, sitting and watching the people that passed by. While he doesn’t read, he does like sipping on his drink slowly.

When the both of you broke up, he would come here as much as he could. There was a time you were here at the time he had come. You were sitting with your knees up to your chest and you were staring at your phone. He wasn’t able to look at what exactly was on it but you seemed somber. He watched you sit in silence, cradling yourself.

He thought about going up to you that day. He thought about explaining his circumstances to you and telling you that it wasn’t because he wanted to leave. He wanted you to hear him out and understand him.

But as he watched you sitting at the same spot the both of you used to spend your days in, waiting for whatever it was on your phone, all he could think about was how selfish it was for him to clear his name.

His treatment towards you had been nothing short of terrible. Why should he be given the chance of forgiveness?

He is sitting on the same chair you sat on that day, somehow hoping that he can still feel your warmth. He waits until he finishes his coffee and he finally leaves.

Although he can grow used to the uneasiness of not being with you, he cannot feel the same with these busy roads he is about to cross. The music in his ears usually helps but his phone has died so his ears are stuck listening to the blaring all around him.

When it all blends together, he doesn’t even realize the car that is speeding towards him.

However, he doesn’t feel it.

Is that what it’s supposed to feel like? There’s no impact or pain, just a dark vignette around his vision that seems to be taking over his entire vision.

You rarely show up in his dreams and when you do, it’s usually a sign that he needs to start getting busy again. He would do anything to stop thinking about you. He reckons it’s the regret but it doesn’t matter. Whatever it was, it created a heavy weight on his chest whenever you came to mind.

“Are you alright?” You ask. He thinks it might be part of his dream, or whatever this is. After all, the light shining behind you gives you an angelic look so he must be dreaming.

“Can someone get some help?” You almost yell, something you don’t usually do in his dreams. To be fair, you rarely ever speak when you face him, dream or not. He widens one eye, adjusting to the setting sun behind you slowly. For a moment, he sees it. Your eyebrows still furrowed in concern, your lower lip still chewed on, as you usually do when you are worried.

“Are you real?” He murmurs softly. Without thought, his hand goes up to touch your face, praying you won’t fade away. When you don’t, he presses his palm onto your cheek and lets it stay there. He doesn’t care about what comes after, whether you swat his hand away, or never get near him again, he just wants to hold you for a bit longer.

It’s been two weeks since he was cleared from the hospital.

So, sitting across from you here must not be a delusion.

He takes another sip of his water and looks down at the glass. One of his arms is in a cast and there’s a bit of pain here and there but it’s nothing too bad. You’ve asked about his condition and he has talked extensively about what the doctor said.

The silence is back and he wonders why you asked to meet in the first place. It’s only a few more seconds until he eventually speaks up.

“Why did you want to meet?” You look surprised as if you didn’t expect him to ever ask.

“Uh,” You tuck your hair behind your ears and sigh. “I wanted to just check on you.”

“That’s it?” He asked. He wasn’t sure if it came out as if he was offended or angry, but either way, he was desperate.

“What do you mean, that’s it?” You scowl.

“That’s really all you wanted to know?” He tries his best to keep his voice down but the disdained look on his face is enough to make the concern drain from your face.

“Whatever, this was a mistake.” You scoff and stand up. He is about to let you leave when he suddenly blurts out your name, stopping you in your tracks.

“I’m sorry.” He exhales to maintain his composure. “Let’s talk.” You look at him for a moment, seemingly deciding whether or not to re-take your seat. When you finally do, he takes another deep breath and places his hands on the table. He’s shaking terribly but he doesn’t want to hide it anymore.

“I never really…” He clenches his fists. “I never really explained what happened.”

“I know why.” You say softly.

“Have you been mad at me all this time?” He asks, waiting for you to look at him.

“I don’t know if I have that right.” You say but you don’t raise your head. “We were just kids. I think we needed each other too much.”

He heard once that love was calm and adequate, and if you don’t know what that meant, you hadn’t found it. He knew what he had with you was different. It was the type of devotion that magnets had. He always thought that at the end of the day, you would always find your way back to each other. Some would say the type of passion he had for you was excessive but he thought it was just the feeling of being alive.

You were the live wire that electrified his days, a firework that shattered into the thousands of pieces that he would always pick up. He didn’t mind being your glue. He didn’t care that you were each other’s half. To him, that was the definition of love. It meant completing the other.

Perhaps that is why he hadn’t felt the same with anyone else.

“I didn’t know you still visited our spot.” You say and he is pulled back to the present.

“I can say the same for you.”

“Only sometimes.” You sigh. “When I’m feeling lonely.”

He keeps his eyes on you. Your body is slouched and the look on your face speaks of embarrassment, as if you are guilty of still thinking of him. He holds his breath along with the words tempted to roll off his tongue.

The question he thinks you might be thinking of too. But he quickly says something else.

“Why were you at the hospital?” You stay silent for a while.

“I needed a check-up.” You sounded nervous. “Because I’m leaving soon.”

He gulps.

“Oh-”

“I don’t know why I felt like I should tell you.” You sigh. “I think just seeing you in the hospital brought back a lot of unnecessary feelings and I felt like I owed you some sort of explanation.” A short laugh comes out. “I don’t know! I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” You drag a hand down your face, making your smile lopsided.

He still can’t say anything. He should be happy for you. You are finally moving to be your own person, something you have dreamed of since you were together. But all he feels is still fluttering in his stomach which makes him want to vomit everything he has eaten that day.

He wants to cry, he wants to sob into his arms and beg you to stay. He wants to tell you he will follow you. He wants to buy a ticket to not lose you again.

“I know this is sudden and weird. Maybe,” You breathe out, finally meeting his eyes and he finally sees the streaks down your cheeks.

“Maybe I just needed to see you one more time to close it all, you know.” You say softly. He doesn’t nod, or deny, or say anything at all. He can’t move.

“I hope your tremors aren’t so bad now.” You say but he still doesn’t move. His mind yells at him to even blink, just so you don’t know he broke from hearing the news.

“T-Thanks.” He stammers and you nod slowly. “When are you leaving?” He can’t bear to hear how far away you will be.

“In a week.”

He bows his head and stays like that for a while. You thank him for meeting you and leave him, in the same place you left him all those years ago. It’s a deja vu moment, where he can feel the same fibers in his body fighting to reach out for you.

But all he does is clench his fists and let you leave.

Again.

a/n: i had to repost this because i remembered that it was an answer to a question. i was more nostalgic when i wrote the first part so i hope i kept it up this time without having to fall back into that hole. i hope you enjoyed!

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sweethartlullaby · 4 months

Text

you, among the art ix

word count: 807 genre/theme: fluff and angst, sculpting series, graduate student and her professor/supervisor, female and male pairing songs: could you love me while i hate myself - zeph as always, imagine whoever you would like... sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist

He briskly walks down the hallway. The wave of students has gone but he will not want to be caught in the middle of it all when classes end.

The ring on his finger still feels strange, somehow heavy. They agreed to not take sculpting away from him, something he is forever grateful for. His wife stays at home, waiting for him to come back each night.

On the other hand, she hasn’t written back to him for almost a year now. The last time he wrote back, he wished her well and the best of health. He learned to let it go after a while but he cannot admit that the hole has gone.

As he turns, he catches something in the corner of his eye.

At first, he thinks it’s a mistake. Why would she be here? And when he turns, he realizes that it was not a complete mistake. It’s a portrait of her and she looks exactly the way she did when she left.

He gets closer and reading the name seals it for him. He reads her description and can’t stop the smile that makes its way to his face. She truly made a name for herself. He only feels the urge to stop when he reaches that part.

Unfortunately, her life was taken away in a car accident this May. She was on her way back to this university. When she was found, she was holding onto a scarf.

He looks at the items below the description and he instantly recognizes the scarf. It looks dirtier than when he first gave it to her and he can see the spots of blood on the fabric.

He suddenly can’t feel his fingers or his face. In times like this, shouldn’t his heart be beating in his ears? Shouldn’t he feel like he is dreaming, because isn’t this what it is? Isn’t this a dream? Isn’t this something she had just done to joke on him? Isn’t this a lie?

His ring feels light now. His whole body does.

The woman in the picture no longer feels familiar. It must be someone else because she isn’t gone. Her picture is above the wrong description. They must have confused her with someone else. He looks around frantically, gripping the handle of his bag even tighter. There are even more pictures, her with Madame Aki, her in more galas, her on stage during her final project presentation, wearing the same damn smile in all.

When he feels that all pairs of her eyes are on him, he runs out to his office, pushing past people as he struggles to breathe. The silence of his space is deafening and sudden. It feels as if all the air has been sucked out of his lungs. Everything around him has stopped and the only movement he can make is his collapse onto the ground.

The breaths he takes are shallow and when he finally feels something, it’s the tightness in his chest. His hand clutches the fabric above his heart which he hopes will give him some air. When he finds it, he starts to cry.

Watching her felt like the sun finally decided to look at him. It was as if the heavens had congratulated him on not drawing that blade across his wrist last night. She was electric and she spoke with such determination, that he felt it in his bones. He was overflowing with joy and it had come out as a laugh instead. He had embarrassed himself in front of his colleagues but worse of all, she was frozen.

When he wrote her his apology letter, he prayed that she would accept his proposition. So when she did, he kept thanking the gods. He promised himself to give her only the best. Falling for her was simply something that happened along the way.

And he fell hard. It wasn’t as if he had never liked someone before but this was something beyond it. Suddenly, he wanted to protect her. He wanted more than the best for her. He knew he had someone waiting for him. He knew he had a life beyond being her supervisor but that was all that he wanted to do.

He had a dilemma that day when she received that letter from Madame Aki. He debated abandoning everything and moving. There was art in Japan, someone of his fame wouldn’t be destitute. He needed a sign and he never got one.

So now, he sits in his empty office, hearing the echoes of her laughter ring. He cradles his head in his hands, the ring burning against his scalp as he thinks about how she was on her way back to him. Could he have said it then?

And I would have followed you to the ends of the earth.

a/n: and we are done! thank you so much again for reading. i might add the previous and next parts soon but please refer to the masterlist in the meantime! this was much more dramatic in my head and i wanted it to literally rip hearts out (so please let me know if this had any effect on you hihi) i think something i ended up doing differently than planned was having nine chapters instead of ten. at first it was just because i combined some chapters but i realized it ended well. i thought of it as they never really got to reach 10, never really got to finish their story and so it ends at 9. it's going to forever be incomplete because that was taken away from them. that is just my reason for it but you're free to interpret it however! i hope you have enjoyed this series and i thank you for your unending patience. thank you and i apologize for any mistakes!

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sweethartlullaby · 4 months

Text

you, among the art viii

word count: 1219 genre/theme: fluff and angst, sculpting series, graduate student and her professor/supervisor, female and male pairing songs: chemtrails over the country club - lana del rey as always, imagine whoever you would like... find part ix here sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist

He watches as her parents hug her and fix her clothes. Her mother is teary-eyed and her father is beaming with pride. When she finally spots him, he walks over and puts his best grin on.

“How are you feeling?” He asks.

“Scared.” She says it hushedly as if she’s afraid her parents will hear. He lets out a breathe and steps closer before he wraps it around her neck, making sure not to choke her. When he brings the hood up to her head, he notices the shine in her eyes. He has to stop it from bringing his own tears out.

Maybe it’s the pride of seeing his student go but it’s most probably because he realizes that he will miss her forever.

“It can get really cold in Japan. I just want you to keep warm.” He says softly and she bows her head. He chews down on his lip, deciding if he should pull her in for a hug. But his hand settles on her shoulder and he strokes it with the pad of his thumb.

“I never got my sign.” She chuckles, looking back up at him.

“That itself is a sign then.” He smiles down at her. He has wondered about all the possibilities, from different animals to the weather to maybe even something from him. Before he came home that day, he had decided that he was going to make a move, confess, or whatever stupid thing his mouth decided to do. But then he found the letter and everything flew out of the window. He probably spent about ten minutes avoiding his home, doing anything to elude his feelings. He had selfish thoughts, ones that he knew he could never forgive himself for.

He wanted to tell her. He wanted her to know that she has made him feel something no one ever has. But when he saw her face light up after reading the letter, he knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t say the one thing she might have wanted to hear but also might lead to her ruin. She’s a bright student and a lovelier person. The path she has ahead of her isn’t something she should have to second-guess because of him. Not to mention the woman who is waiting for him. If he should have the privilege of loving her, he wants it to be right.

Not something his irrational desire spits out.

He can’t be the thing that holds her back. The hatred he has for himself will only grow into something unbearable. It isn’t fair.

Nothing usually is.

“You should probably head back to your parents.”

“Will you stay to watch me leave?” She says and she sounds like she’s teasing. So he pretends to think about it and looks at his watch. “I don’t know, I think my chauffeur is coming to pick me up for my evening gala soon.”

“I thought you hated galas.” She raised an eyebrow with a smile on her face.

“I don’t know, someone made them a bit more bearable.” He says and sees the red blossom in her cheeks.

“You’ve become quite the jokester, professor.”

“And you’ve become less noisy too.” He says and she scoffs. “I’m kidding, you also turned out to be softer than I initially thought you were.” The corners of her lips turn down a little as she looks back at her family.

“I’ll be here.” He assures her. She hesitates for a bit and then nods before she turns to head back to them. “Thank you, for the scarf and for taking me in. I’ll write you.” He nods and watches her leave. He holds onto the car keys or anything else to stop him from blurting out the words he wants to say the most.

The walk back to his car seems to take forever. A thin layer of snow has covered the ground and a print is left behind with each step he makes. He doesn’t cry because he doesn’t feel that he should. After all, it is just another night. It’s just another dinner by himself. It’s just another night of reading before bed. The moon shines the same and the neighbourhood is quiet all the same. Nothing has changed and yet something still feels different.

Perhaps her presence brought more to the air that he breathed. Nevertheless, it’s nothing special when she had simply brought more to everything about him.

Hello,

It is just as you said. Japan is cold and the winds are cruel to me. Madame Aki is not too different from you. Stone-faced, accurate, and explicit about whatever it is that she needs. Working with her has been great but I do miss our university. I hope you’re well too. I think you will like these small prints I found.

How are you?

I really enjoy reading your letters. It’s nice to hear from someone from back home. My parents said they would be visiting me soon. I have so many places to show them. I’ve also notified them of the gifts they’ll be giving to you on my behalf. Be prepared! Oh, and they told me they had made a few prints of the photos we took before I left. I figured it would brighten your walls a little. The awards are shiny and all but add a little warmth will you, professor?

I miss everything.

I miss rushing in the halls to make it in time for classes. I miss playing in the snow with my friend and the small dinners we had when we got so busy. I always wanted to leave for a better future but I feel so empty now. What should I do? What did you do when you got homesick? Should I be regretting leaving; should I have stayed? Please lend some wisdom to your (hopefully) dear student.

It’s been a while.

Madame Aki left for a trip and I’ve been taking care of things in her stead. Managing a museum is much more fun than I thought it to be. The late nights I spend working on projects have been exhausting. I suppose I never really realized it because I was always with you. I hope the students haven’t been too much lately; I know how drained you can get. It’s a little mind-blowing that I’ve been here for almost six months. It feels like it has been forever. Please keep writing to me, I love reading your words.

I know it’s a waste to dwell on the past.

But I keep wondering what my life would be like if I got my sign. I made it harder to get so that if it did happen, it was by the force of nature. It wouldn’t have been me. I wonder if you have had any dilemmas lately; if you’ve needed any signs lately.

The sun is leaving us once again.

Have you received your new student? How are they? Have you told them the high expectations you hold for them? Have they run away yet? Are they better than me? There is only one right answer. I hope they haven’t been insufferable and tried to escape. If all goes well, I suppose you won’t need to tell them not to go, just like you didn’t have to with me.

a/n: *cheeky laugh* did you notice it? (psst, she's talking about the bolded and strikethrough-ed words in the letters) sad that tumblr doesn't have a underline option

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sweethartlullaby · 4 months

Text

you, among the art vii

word count: 1151 genre/theme: fluff and angst later, sculpting series, graduate student and her professor/supervisor, female and male pairing as always, imagine whoever you would like... find part viii here sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist

Her bedsheets feel softer than usual. And when she sits up, her room looks different. She only realizes why when she goes out and sees the familiar wall of awards. Her head is pounding with every step she takes and even the far away sound of honking irritates her.

When she catches sight of the bowl of soup, she steps towards it slowly, trying her best to not make the headache worse than it already is. Once she takes a sip, she already feels it clearing.

Of course he’s a decent cook too.

She thinks back to last night, struggling to remember what happened. She recalls talking about her family and hearing about his. Even so, everything is a blur afterwards. She can only hope she didn’t say anything too embarrassing.

After finishing the soup, she takes a quick shower and changes into the pile of clothes he laid out for her. He must be at the store and she doesn’t feel right to just leave without saying anything. So she waits, snooping around and finding books with colourful tabs, trying to decipher the meaning of each. She cleans the bedroom as best as she can; it’s the least she can do. When she sweeps under the shelves, a blade slides out. It must have been hidden for a while since it’s so dirty. She sees a few stains but they’re too dark to make out.

Before she can think any further, she hears the door click open so she stuffs it into a pocket from last night’s clothes and goes out.

“Hey, you’re awake.” He says as he takes his shoes off and hangs his scarf.

“Thank you for the soup.” She smiles at him and he returns it.

“How long have you been up?” He moves to put his things in the places they should be in.

“Not long, I did some cleaning and-”

“You did what?” He chokes on a cup of water.

“I didn’t mean to pry. I just-” He laughs and shakes his head.

“You shouldn’t have. You’re a guest.” He walks to the couch, inviting her to sit with him.

“Well, you didn’t give me much to do. Where’d you go, anyway?” His eyes widen and he immediately gets back up before rushing to his coat and bringing back an envelope with him.

“This was in the mail this morning. I’m not expecting any so I figured it must be regarding you.” He hands it over and she stares at it. The sender reads Aki and that’s all she needs to feel her heart pound in her chest.

“No, I can’t. It must be a rejection letter.” He takes a seat and raises an eyebrow.

“There’s nothing for her to reject.”

“No, she must be writing to tell me that she has given the opportunity of being her apprentice to someone else. It must be that!” He is looking at her with disbelief but it doesn’t seem so impossible to her.

“I cannot open it. I will simply live in oblivion for the rest of my days.” She crosses her arms, falling onto her back.

“I won’t allow it.” He does the same.

“You can’t make me.”

“I’ll read it out loud then.” He tears the envelope and she immediately reaches for it. Even though he initially raises it beyond her reach, she eventually gets ahold of it. Nevertheless. when it’s in her hands, she hesitates again.

“Oh for heaven’s sake, please open it!” He pleads and she eventually takes the slip of paper out. With shaky hands, her eyes scan the words. After a few moments of silence, she feels her eyes water and she looks up at him, joy erupting within her.

“I know this will be my second time saying it within 48 hours but…I told you so.” He says and she laughs, throwing her arms around him. He gives her a tight squeeze and sighs. She’s too happy to realize what she’s doing.

“Thank you.” She whispers.

“This was all you, there’s no need to thank me.” He says back but she just buries herself in his neck even more. “You’ve always been amazing.” He murmurs and she smiles to herself.

“Does this mean you’ll be moving to Japan?” He asks after a few moments of silence and she finally pulls away, looking down at the letter.

“Yeah, I think so.” She says and there’s a little pang of sadness when she says it. She’s always wanted to travel. She has always thought of the steps ahead and nothing has changed…not much has changed. But she feels a little hesitant and she knows why.

She can say it’s the university, or how she has gotten accustomed to the place, or the food, or anything but she knows it’s no use to fool herself into thinking it’s not him. She cannot reject such an offer for such uncertainty but there’s a strong urge to stay. She wants to be close to him, as much as possible.

He would think that it’s stupid. He would say it’s ridiculous to give up on her dream for something she cannot comprehend. He would call her foolish and that would be all she needed to move on.

But if that is so true, why is she so afraid to ask him to reassure her? Is it because he strokes her head a little too softly? Is it because he lets her hug him even when thirty seconds have passed?

“Are you alright?” His soft voice pulls her out of her thoughts and she nods as enthusiastically as she can.

“Just…” Her eyes shift towards his. He softens his gaze as if he understands what she is worried about. “Taken aback.” She says. He nods slowly and reaches out to hold her hand. The warmth of his fingers on hers makes it even harder to not give in.

“This is a huge step but I’m sure you know what’s best for yourself.” She looks at their joined hands because she knows if she looks at him, she’ll burst into tears.

“I don’t know what I want.”

“You’ve dreamed of this for the longest time, right? It doesn’t make sense to give all that up now.” He says the last part like he’s talking to both of them.

“What if it’s a mistake?” She whispers, her voice cracking. He chuckles and pulls her into him.

“When I’m in a dilemma, I wait for a sign.” His chest vibrates with each word he says. “When I get that sign, I make my decision.”

“Does it work?” She laughs into him.

“Most times it does.” He says and she sighs.

“Make your sign now and if it doesn’t happen before you have to leave, then you’re going.” She thinks about it for a second and then she nods.

As if he knows what it is, he pulls her in tighter.

a/n: we are nearing the end! writing this has been a bit difficult since it is longer than any usual work i do but i think i would do it again if i come up with another idea.

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sweethartlullaby · 4 months

Text

you, among the art vi

word count: 1269 genre/theme: fluff and angst later, sculpting series, graduate student and her professor/supervisor, female and male pairing as always, imagine whoever you would like... find part vii here sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist

She looks as nervous as he feels. She was great in there but he can’t get rid of the swirling in his stomach. However, nerves aren’t unusual after presenting your final project.

The very one that determines the path you might take after graduation.

“What if they didn’t like it?” She asks for the hundredth time. He pushes himself off the wall and places his hands on her shoulders, stopping her pacing.

“I’m sure they did. You did great, okay?” He tries to crack a smile and she lets out a heavy breath, pressing a palm to her forehead. This isn’t a first for him, seeing his graduating student in distress. However, watching her in distress makes him wish that he could go in there and rush his colleagues.

“I’m sure it will be fine.” He bends down to meet her eyes and although the doubt is heavily weighing on them, she nods anyway. Just as he straightens his back, she pulls his body onto hers. His eyes quickly dart around, making sure no one is looking.

“Someone is going to-”

“Just for thirty seconds. Just to stop shaking.” She murmurs as she buries her head into his chest. He’s a precise person. However, even when he knows the thirty seconds have passed, he lets her hold him anyway and he runs his palm up and down her back slowly. When she finally pulls away, he feels cold.

“Thank you.” He grins down at her.

They wait for about five more minutes until someone steps out and invites her back in. The applause from inside the room is all he needs to feel the rush of relief. She comes out with the biggest smile she has ever worn and all he says is “I told you so.”

“Is that what people really think of me?” He furrows his eyebrows but his smile denies any anger.

“Yes! People are so afraid of you and they were warning me about asking you to be my supervisor.” She takes another swig of her drink. Even with the warm light illuminating the room, her rosy pink cheeks still shine through. “Didn’t you make your previous student cry?”

“In my defense,” He places a hand on his chest. “She was not taking her project seriously at all.” She laughs.

“I’m so,” She breathes out and throws her head back. “I’m so relieved it’s over.” She says and he smiles at her. Perhaps it’s the alcohol or maybe it’s the snow outside that’s making her look even more beautiful than she needs to be to make his heart skip a beat.

When he saw her on that date, all he felt was this crushing feeling. He knew they would have never worked, not as long as they were still working together. But seeing her with someone else made it feel real. It seemed like there was truly no way out of this besides to erase her from his mind.

But he’s sitting beside her now and all he can think about is reaching for her hand, grabbing her face to press his lips against hers, tucking her hair behind her cheeks, and feeling the warmth of her skin against his. All he wants with her is to be closer.

“I don’t know if I can ask this but,” She swallows. “Your dad mentioned a fiance at the gala.” His thoughts stop and he feels the air still. She must have noticed the change in his demeanor because she hesitates.

“Go on.” He assures her.

“Well, you never mentioned having one. And I mean, if you do, why are you here?” She asks slowly and he takes another sip of his wine.

“I told him that if I were to get married, it would be after I am done with my work. He promised me seven more years.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Five and a half years ago.” He says and the silence that follows carves a hole into his heart. To him, his work was his life. He didn’t want anything else. He didn’t feel enough love to understand it. An arranged marriage was a way to save his family from him. He sees it as an obligation and nothing else. Everything has a purpose. Love isn’t a purpose. It isn’t a reason to stop yourself from going to greater heights.

At least, that’s what he used to think.

He believes that she is the reason for the change of his mind. She almost makes him believe that it can be purposeful, that to burn for someone can mean something more than delirious passion. She’s his breath of fresh air. It feels as if she was the hand that saved him that night, the one that pulled him from the water. He doesn’t know if it’s love, it’s too soon to tell. But he feels it, he feels the urge to abandon everything that is his name just to be with her. He feels the battle against his rules.

“Have you at least spoken to her? Your fiance, I mean.” He nods.

“We met when it was decided all those years ago.”

“Was she at least mean?” He laughs and shakes his head.

“She was one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.” She nods slowly, pursing her lips. They keep drinking and she talks about her own life. As an only child, her parents have always been supportive of what she wants to do. She was always hesitant about taking a career in art but it was her father that pushed her to do it. She says they give her so much to look forward to in life.

As the night gets later and the number of bottles on the table increases, her cheeks get redder and her words slur more. Even though he drinks slower, he can still start to feel the room sway. All the while, he watches as she gets even more excited after a few drinks. She talks about the ridiculous things that happened in her years at university, her friend, the stupid date she wishes she never went on, and the times she truly felt passionate about her work, one of them being when she started working with him.

“You made me love sculpting even more and I didn’t think that was possible.”

“I do have a tendency to prove people wrong.” He chuckles but she stays silent. Her eyes shift uneasily as she stares at him. She moves and takes a seat closer to him in the booth.

“Can you prove me wrong again?” She whispers and the blush in her cheeks makes her undeniable.

“What is it?” He murmurs, brushing her hair away from her face.

“Tell me this won’t work.” Her eyes start to water.

“What won’t work?” He leans back, not taking his eyes off her. She doesn’t say anything and just collapses onto him, nesting her face in the space between his neck and collarbone.

“Another thirty seconds?” He murmurs, stroking her hair.

“Longer.”

“One minute?”

“Longer.”

“All night?”

“Longer.” He laughs a little and leans his cheek on the top of her head.

“You’re a wonder, you know that?” He whispers. She is silent for a while and then he feels her speak into his chest.

“Don’t confuse me. I don’t want someone who doesn’t want me.” His hand stops and everything pauses. The words on the tip of his tongue can’t come out either. When he finally exhales again, he purses his lips to stop himself.

As much as he wants to, he can’t bring himself to say it.

Not now.

a/n: yipee ka yay! i'd love to hear who you have been imagining this whole time

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sweethartlullaby · 4 months

Text

you, among the art v

word count: 1440 genre/theme: fluff and angst later, sculpting series, graduate student and her professor/supervisor, female and male pairing as always, imagine whoever you would like... find part vi here sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist

“You’re in deep.”

“No.”

“You almost kissed him.”

“We were just trying to stay warm!”

“By joining lips?” Her friend raises an eyebrow. After telling her, she knew there was no way to face it besides for what it was. She stands from her seat, pacing behind the chair as she pushes her hair back in distress.

“I can’t like him.” She whispers to herself. “No, no, he’s cold and he’s my supervisor, oh my God he’s my supervisor. The ethics!” She exclaims as her arms flail above her head.

“The ethics…” Her friend repeats but she looks as if she couldn’t care less. She returns to her seat, biting on the pad of her thumb as she tries to sort herself out. She can’t avoid him forever. She will just have to convince herself that there is nothing to like about him.

Yes, that will simply have to work.

“Why don’t you go out with one of my desperate friends?” She stops chewing and raises an eyebrow.

“There’s tons of people that like you. You can easily forget about him if you’re sleeping with someone else.” She sighs and looks down at her bruised finger.

She thinks about it for a moment. These desperate friends of hers don’t usually have a good reputation. But surely, there’s no harm in trying…right?

“Fine,” She looks up and crosses her arms. “I’ll try one date.”

She wishes she could fake an emergency. Maybe a fall on the way to the bathroom, or something to do with her project. Anything that gives her escape from this horrid date.

He’s a handsome man but the words that come out of his mouth immediately spoil all that is good. In the thirty minutes they have been sitting at this table, he has questioned her more than she has ever done to herself.

“Why art?”

“So, you must be really confident in your skills.”

“I’m sure a doll like you could do other things.”

The fake smile has gone by now and all she wants to do is look uninterested enough for him to leave on his own. But he hasn’t stopped speaking about his own interests and each time she thinks it’s the end, he somehow returns back to how he feels about it.

It’s funny. She agreed to go on this date so she would stop thinking about him but as she drowns her date’s voice away, all she finds herself dreaming about is him. Fact, she wishes he would walk through the door and save her from this.

“...bill?”

“Sorry?” She turns back to him.

“Could we split the bill?” She scoffs and throws the napkin at him before she stands to walk away.

As she pushes through the doors, greeted by the icy winds of December, she reminds herself that sometimes, there is harm in trying.

She takes a deep breath and knocks on his door twice. He missed class today, which meant she had to improvise her way through the one hour she was stuck in that room. It also meant she might give him an earful for the lack of warning.

As she waits, her mind wanders back to the gala. As much as she doesn’t want to, she can’t help but reimagine that moment. He smelled like fall and she swore she could make out the hint of clay when she took a breath so close to him. He was such a great dancer too and…

His father and the mention of a fiance.

It tugs at her heart a little when she thinks of the fact that he has someone waiting for him at home. The kiss they almost shared must have been a mistake then. She slides her free palm down her skirt, only pretending to smooth it down. In the other hand, she holds a bowl of soup. As much as she wants to appear irritated, her concern for him is greater. She figured it must have been something serious for him to leave her on her own.

Anyone would have done the same for their supervisor. It’s just being nice.

She sighs and raises her knuckles to knock again, when it swings open, revealing a very revealed supervisor standing at the doorframe. His large shirt is buttoned wrongly and it starts with the last three buttons, leaving his torso peeking at her as it drapes against his back.

She doesn’t realize her mouth has been hanging open until she speaks.

“Uh,” She tears her eyes away from his body and looks at him. Yet, her heart doesn’t stop rapidly beating in her chest. “You didn’t show up today.”

He straightens his back and buttons the rest of his shirt.

“R-Right, I’m so sorry about that.” The both of them stand there in silence for a moment.

“I thought you were sick so I brought some soup.” She raises it, hoping her smile breaks this tension.

“Oh,” His eyes soften and he returns a small smile before he steps to the side and invites her in.

“Let me just get dressed.” He calls out as she places the bowl on his counter, unwrapping it so that it’s ready for him. When she pulls her hands away from the bowl, she finally feels the warmth in her cheeks. Even with her primed fingers, she still feels the heat on her face.

With a shake of her head, she grabs a cup of water and chugs it, hoping it provides some relief to her embarrassed soul. Her eyes dart around the room, hoping something will take her mind off of the image of his body, his lips, his face, his voice.

A twinkle catches her from the corner of her eye and she turns to see a pile of medals hanging by the window. She scoffs a little as she sifts through them. Shouldn’t such precious things be kept in a safer place?

They date even farther back the more she goes through; ranging from awards for the Best Stability in a project to the Best Design. His certificates only add to his longstanding reputation. His walls are adorned with the plaques that make up his prestige. She stares at each, her inspiration increasing with each one.

“Where’d you get this soup?” She turns and he has poured it into two bowls.

“Just a corner store near where I live.” She says as she takes a seat next to him. He takes a sip and nods slowly and although it’s nothing, her heart swells as he approves.

“So, you are sick?” She asks as she holds the bowl in her hands. He pauses before he chuckles a little and leans back on the couch, throwing a hand over his eyes.

“No, I drank a little too much last night.” He says but with the smile on his face, she feels no remorse.

“I had to teach alone because of you.” He lifts his hand to peek at her before he sits up and looks at her.

“It’s great practice if you ever want to be a professor.”

“Well I don’t, I’m going to make great work so museums pay to have my work displayed.” She scoffs but he just laughs. “You don’t think that’s going to happen?” He shakes his head and sighs, eyes finally settling on hers; the way they did that night.

“I’m sure museums would pay fortunes to have your work.” He says it with such delicacy and faith that she feels it in her bones. She smiles but he doesn’t look away and for some reason, she can’t either.

Is he going to…

She tries to tear herself away but before she has the chance to do so, he reaches and tucks a few strands of hair behind her ear. A sharp breath makes its way into her lungs when his fingers slightly brush against her cheek.

“W-Why’d you get drunk last night?” She clears her throat, finally able to look down. It’s mostly to hide her blushing cheeks.

“I felt a bit hopeless.” At this, she looks up at him again. He must be able to sense the concern just from her face because he shrugs.

“Relax, I’m alright. I just needed a drink to get my mind off of things.” When she hears him grab the bowl, she looks up at him again.

“Guess we both had a rough night.” She chuckles and leans back with him, staring at the ceiling above them.

“What happened with you?” He murmurs.

“Just a stupid date I should have never gone on.” She says and turns to look at him.

To her surprise, he’s smiling.

a/n: yay, she updated! okay so i know i said i would try to get it all out before the end of the year but i got really depressed about my finals so it's a little late (oops, sorry). to make it up to you, i have finished writing it and i will be uploading all of it tonight! thank you so much for your support and i will be getting to your requests soon!

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sweethartlullaby · 4 months

Text

you, among the art iv

word count: 1760 genre/theme: fluff and angst later, sculpting series, graduate student and her professor/supervisor, female and male pairing as always, imagine whoever you would like... find part v here sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist

He looks at the ticket again and a groan leaves his throat.

“What’s wrong?” She asks and he shakes his head as he slips it under his notebook.

“It’s nothing.” He shrugs before standing from his desk.

“That’s what people say when it’s definitely something.” She scoffs before she walks over and in one swift move, she pulls out the ticket.

“A gala?” She reads before he gets the chance to snatch it back from her. He sighs and rolls his sleeves back up as he sits back down on his desk.

“Yes, but I hate those.” She turns to him and raises an eyebrow.

“It’s just an excuse for the faculty to not do their work.” He says and she just rolls her eyes at him.

“I bet you’re great at parties.”

“I wouldn’t know, I don’t go.” He smiles but she starts shaking her head. “Says here you can take a plus one.” That’s the tone of her voice when she is about to suggest something she knows he won’t agree with.

“Well?” Her eyes sparkle as she asks. It takes him a second to realize what she’s implying.

“Don’t be ridiculous, we have to work on your project.”

“It’s just one night!” She begs, moving to face him. She juts her lower lip out and he can’t help but chuckle.

“We’re staying for one hour and that’s it.”

“But what about dancing?” He crosses his arms and looks down at her, holding her gaze for a few seconds. He scoffs when she finally looks away.

“I don’t know how to dance.” He shrugs, stretching his arms above him.

“Then I’ll teach you!”

“Why do I need to know how to dance?” He tilts his head as his arms fold in front of his chest again.

“Because…” She chews down on her lip as she thinks about it and his heart skips a beat.

“Because it’s just what is done! I’ll stay late if you dance with me, even if it’s just once.” She pleads, joining her hands in front of him. He looks at her fingers, intertwined with each other, and laughs.

“Fine, one dance, and then we’re leaving.”

He feels as though he can’t breathe.

The ballroom does have its contributions but he’s certain it’s the suit. He pulls at the collar and gulps. There are just so many people.

“Here,” She returns with a small plate of cakes. “I got as much as I could.” He looks at her mumbling to herself about the delicacies and smiles a little.

“No wonder you were gone for so long.” He says before he takes a sip of his drink.

“Is that alcohol?”

“No, it’s colored water.” He says and she scowls at him.

“For someone who always looks so tense, you are surprisingly a very sarcastic man.”

“Only when I want to be.”

“And I’m supposed to be flattered that you chose me to be your victim?” She asks before taking another bite of the tart. Before he can answer, he hears someone clear their throat next to them. He feels his heart drop as he speaks.

“Son.”

He takes a sharp breath in before he turns to his father and he shows the most polite smile he can muster.

“Father.” He feels as though the entire room has turned their attention towards them, silent yet watchful, like watching a prey.

“I thought you weren’t a party person.”

“I’m not.” He’s trying his best to not sneer at him. “I just…thought I’d try it one time.”

His father doesn’t respond, but instead looks at her, the girl standing so close to his body, it was no mistake that they knew each other. Before he even asks, she introduces herself, bending her body over just a bit.

“He’s my supervisor for my graduating project. It’s nice to meet you.” He had never seen her so nervous before.

“I see, it’s nice to meet you too.” His father says promptly and then turns back to his son.

“If you can make time to come to this gala, I’m assuming you’ll have the time to come home this Winter. Your fiance is waiting for you.” He lied, his heart didn’t drop before but it is doing so now. One earth-shattering word is enough for him to make him crawl back inside the shell of the man he is. It’s enough for him to make him think of all of the horrible things he has desperately tried to expunge out of his brain.

He is frozen.

Even when his father leaves, his knuckles are still white from gripping the glass too hard.

“Hey,” She whispers.

“Are you alright?” She asks and even though he feels freer to breathe, he still feels funny. He takes a drink and exhales. He didn’t think his father would bring it up. His fiance, how long has it been since he has heard that word?

How long has it been since he has spoken to his father?

He turns to her and laughs a little but she only looks at him like he’s on drugs.

Of course, she would look at him like that.

“Are you-”

“We should dance.”

“But-”

“You wanted a dance, let’s dance.” Without another word, he takes her arm and leads her to the floor, leaving behind the pastries she was enjoying before his father.

“Sir, I don’t-” He whirls her in front of him and takes her hands.

“Don’t call me that.” He whispers and leans in close to her ear. “You can call be by my name, you know.” When he pulls away, he thinks her cheeks are redder.

The music starts and they begin. He’s always been a quick learner. As they glide across the marble floor, she constantly smiles and raises her eyebrows, impressed that he knows how to do thi albeit their short practice session.

He can’t stop looking at her. Even though she keeps avoiding his gaze, all he does is look at her. He notices all the small things he usually doesn’t. For one, the small curl in her hair, resting on her cheek. Another is the way her cheeks are redder than before, and she hasn’t gone to the bathroom to reapply anything. He leans in and breathes in her scent. She smells of the ocean back home.

“Are you having fun?” She whispers before he spins her and he laughs in her ear.

“I think it might be the alcohol, but this dancing is making me feel good.” He mutters. She squeezes the hand in hers.

“You look really beautiful tonight, by the way.” The alcohol is consuming him. When she pulls back and smiles at him, he has to stop himself from pushing his lips onto hers.

“You look quite dashing yourself, si-” She stops herself just in time and purses her lips into a smile.

Three minutes couldn’t have gone by quicker. After they bow, she takes his hand and pulls him to the side, away from the spotlight.

“Well, that’s one dance for you.” He smiles, a little sadly. He wishes he wasn’t so adamant on tonight. “Will you leave now?”

He might be imaging it but she almost sounds hopeful that he isn’t. He chews down on his lip as he thinks for a moment.

“Let me get our coats. Stay here.” He says quickly and then he immediately runs. His face must be flushed from the amount of adrenaline that’s pumping through his body right now. His hands are shaking from how excited he is.

He yanks the coats from the hangers and runs back to her, chest heaving when he stands in the same spot and she isn’t there.

She finally returns after about ten minutes but all he feels is the creep of anxiety dawning on him.

“I’m so sorry I left. I thought I could take a quick bathroom break.” She reasons but he just nods, trying his best not to seem down.

“No worries.” He passes her his coat and watches her put it on. When they walk outside, he debates saying something to break the tension. All the thrill has been washed off in the ten minutes she was gone, imagining that she left him.

“I can’t do this anymore.” She says and he thinks it’s about them. But there’s a grin on her face when he turns to look at her.

“Alright, during my little bathroom break, I actually spoke to…” She pauses, for anticipation, he assumes.

“I spoke to the one and only Madame Aki!” He stops in his tracks, feeling as if the air has stilled around him too.

“That’s…”

“I know! She’s basically my idol and I never expected to run into her at all! I couldn’t stop myself from going up to her. We spoke a little bit and she said she would love to keep in touch!” She almost shrieks from excitement as she jumps and waves her arms. While excitement might not be back in his system, he still grins for her.

“That’s amazing. Doesn’t she have a museum too?”

“Yes! All the way in Japan, which I think will be where I spend my summer next year.” She sings and he chuckles as they pull to a stop.

“I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you.” She says, eyes softening when they finally look at him. “I would’ve never gotten this opportunity if it wasn’t for you.” He shakes his head and takes a step closer to her.

“You’re the one who invited me to a dance remember?” He says softly. From this close, he can see the slight tint on her lips, cheeks, and nose. The winter air is blossoming her cheeks and he can’t imagine seeing anything more beautiful. He searches her eyes, drinking in her gaze as he steadies himself. His fingers brush the hair away from her face and he tries his best to stop leaning in.

This can’t happen.

As much as he wants it to, it can’t happen.

His breathing is heavier and she’s not pulling away. Is this consensus? Is this a yes? His eyes move down to her soft lips, inches away from his.

“Hey!” A child nearby yells and he immediately pulls away, just realizing how close they had been. A group of children run by and he blows out a breath. She clears her throat and they stand in silence for a moment.

“Your car is close by right?” She suddenly speaks up and his words tumble out of his mouth.

“Y-Yes, I’ll drive you home. Come.”

a/n: finally!! part iv is out! i've been struggling to find the will to write lately but i'll try to keep at it as much as possible. thank you for reading and i apologize for any mistakes! i'll try to get the rest out asap so readers don't really have to wait. thank you again!

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sweethartlullaby · 4 months

Text

17 again with you

word count: 2042 genre/theme: angst, young love songs: say don't go by taylor swift as always, imagine whoever you would like... read part ii here sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist

The hallways haven’t changed and yet it feels different. The boards are filled with different announcements now. He looks through each, smiling at what each child writes.

“Don’t get all teary on us now.” He turns to see his classmate looking at the same board.

“I wasn’t.” He says.

“Good, because I don’t have tissues.” His friend jokes and he chuckles.

“It’s good to see you.” She says and he smiles at her with small nods. “Got a wife yet?”

“Wife?” He chokes.

“Wait any longer and you’ll be fishing for dates in the retirement home.” She laughs.

“Calm down, we aren’t that old.” He shakes his head.

“And yet, everything has changed.” She sighs. “I’ll see you downstairs? I’m trying to get the hog all the food before everyone else comes.” He nods as she leaves him alone again, looking back at all the boards that used to hold his work. Every corner holds a memory. The right one at the end of the hallway was where he used to sit when he didn’t do work. On the opposite end was where he used to hide to scare his classmates.

He sighs and looks at the time. He isn’t planning to be here long. He just wants to say hi to everyone and head home. The walls carry too much for him. Everywhere he looks, he remembers something; the friends he doesn’t talk to anymore, the times he was punished for bad behaviour, and most painful of all, you.

He lets out a breath as he pulls the sleeves of his sweater up and fans his body a little. The air suddenly seems so thin. He squeezes his eyes shut and tilts his head up before he sighs.

Get your shit together, not here.

The bathroom should do it. He just needs to freshen up, that’s it. He walks as he wipes the sweat off his palms, trying his best not to think about anything besides his breathing.

But just as he is about to go through the doors, he sees someone staggering out of the women’s. He looks up and he sees you…

With red eyes and matching blushing cheeks. The front of your dress is slightly wet and you hands are shaking.

He opens his mouth to say something but you spare a second’s glance at him before you push herself off the wall and pass him. His lips close and he gulps, starting to feel his own trembling. He has to hold onto his wrist as he thrusts himself through to the bathroom, reminding himself to breathe and ignore the loud heartbeat in his ears.

Maybe he made a mistake, maybe it isn’t you. Maybe he’s just seeing things because of all the emotions rushing through him just by being here. You didn’t look alright, maybe he should check on you. But did you see the glare she gave you? No, there was no way you wanted to speak to him.

He steadies himself.

This isn’t about to happen. He’s pushed it away for years, he won’t let it all go to hell now.

Breathe idiot, breathe.

He knows he shouldn’t refer to himself that way, but it’s the only way he can get to himself right now. It’s the only way he doesn’t fall apart in his high school bathroom.

He lets the tap run until he isn’t shaking anymore. He lets the water distract him so he doesn’t reach for the cigarettes in his pocket.

And when he turns it off, he doesn’t look in the mirror.

He can’t sleep.

He keeps thinking of you. You looked so tired and yet you don’t look like you have aged a day. You look just like how he remembers you.

After thirty minutes of tossing and turning, he finally reaches for his phone and texts you.

Let it go to hell.

Hey. You alright?

It’s only a minute before she reads it. His heart races as he waits.

…Yeah, thanks for asking.

Then she’s gone.

He checks again. It has only been about five minutes, but he’s getting worried. He’s texted you a few times now but his phone hasn’t buzzed back yet. He’s about to ring you up when he suddenly hears you whisper.

“Hey.”

“Shit!” He hisses as he clutches his phone. “Don’t scare me like that.” He says but you don’t laugh, at least not fully. You just smile a little but he has studied your smile for so long now.

“What’s wrong?” You shake your head as you take his hand.

“Did you bring your car?”

“Yeah, I parked-”

“Let’s go somewhere.” You immediately drag him away, as if you know where you’re heading.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” He jogs up and stops you before walking further. But you just shake your head and sigh before combing a hand through your air.

“I don’t really want to talk about it right now.” He looks into your eyes, trying to reason. But you just let out a chuckle before you look away. “Stop staring at me and just get me out of here.” He chews down on his lip. He doesn’t like leaving stones unturned but you sound so determined to leave. He doesn’t want you running off on your own.

“Okay, where do you wanna go then?” He asks softly as he takes your hand and brings you to his car. When you don’t answer for a while, he suggests the beach.

“That’s really far.” You say as you buckle your seatbelts.

“I don’t mind.” He smiles at you before pecking your cheek. “I’ve got all night, okay?” You nod and he begins driving. After fifteen minutes of driving, you are asleep in his passenger seat. He doesn’t wake you, even when he has arrived on the beach. He just turns the engine off and watches you. He lays his jacket on you, careful not to startle you.

You used to question him a lot. What did he see in you? Why did he choose you in the end? He ran out of words to explain after a while. But when he’s looking at you like this, peacefully asleep in his presence, he can’t help but feel the rush of emotions. It’s excitement, it’s gratitude, it’s hope. It’s one step closer to his wish of becoming better.

When you wake up, the two of you walk along the beach. In the darkness, no one knows that it’s the two of you. It’s just two teenagers threatening to push each other into the ocean; just two people seeking comfort in each other.

You never end up telling him what happened but he doesn’t mind. Your smile is enough for him.

“Look at you, coming with your mom to the hospital. Years ago, you would’ve-”

“I know, I know, I would’ve been all grouchy about it.” He smiles as she takes a seat. “I think I saw the bathroom just now. I’ll be right back.” He says as he goes back the way he came.

It’s been a week since the gathering, a week since he saw her, a week since he sent that message. He hasn’t heard anything since. Part of him wants to leave it, knowing it’s for the best. But the stronger half of him wants to send another message.

However, he doesn’t have the words.

As he turns the corner, eyes peeled for the sign, he finds you instead. You’re walking out of a doctor’s office, a file in your hand. He watches as you get into the elevator and leave. He thinks he must be mistaken again but he knows better than trying to fool himself.

It’s you. The way you walk hasn’t changed and you’re hair is the way it was that day.

When he finally moves again, he looks at the doctor’s name. So he might be right, something is wrong. Even when he returns to his mother, he can’t stop thinking about it. Was it a general health check-up? Was it cancer? Was it pregnancy? Was it-

“...the birthday?”

“Hm?”

“I heard a few of your friends are coming together again for someone’s birthday next week.” His mother repeats.

“Oh,” He furrows his eyebrows as he tries to recall such an event. “I don’t know if I’ll go. I don’t really feel up to it.” He shrugs.

“I heard it’s going to be huge and there will be lots of food.” His mother sings and he immediately sits up.

“Say less.”

His mother was right.

There’s a lot of people too.

A lot of people that he doesn’t know. A lot of people that make his anxiety pile up inside of him. He takes another sip of his drink as he stands with his back against the wall.

The time can’t go by slower.

His friends are laughing next to him and he chimes in every once in a while but he can’t fully keep up with the conversation. He’s eaten enough and all he wants is to go home and get something to snack on before he has to lay in bed and stare at his ceiling again.

He places his drink on a table and steps away fast enough so no one catches him. If he can’t leave yet, he should at least get some air to breathe away from the crowd. The crowd thins as he approaches the balcony. He resists the thoughts of smoking with every step he takes.

But when he sees you there, everything stops.

You must be here for the party. Why else would you wear such a dress? You’re looking out at the city you both used to call home. He only sees the cigarette between your fingers when you turn to look at him but you quickly chuck it at the trash can and dust your hands off.

You pass him again, wordless.

“Why aren’t you talking to me?” He blurts out before you leave him. He thinks you’re not there anymore but then you speak.

“I don’t have anything to say.” He stays silent, but he doesn’t hear the clack of your heels. He takes a deep breath and steps towards the city. He can’t do this if he has to look at you.

“Y-You looked like you were crying at the gathering.” He stutters out as his fingers dig deeper into his palm. To hide his trembling, he holds his wrist out on the flat railing.

“And?” Your voice is still cold and yet, he feels you are speaking softer.

“You smoke?” He breathes out.

“What do you want?” You sound tired as if you don’t want to be there right now. He chews down on his lip, debating whether he should turn around.

“You said you would never smoke. You were the one who told me not to smoke.” He finally musters up the courage and spins. The doors are closed and you’re leaning against the walls. You look at him with half-lidded eyes, seeming to be uninterested in what he’s saying.

“And you told me you wouldn’t hurt me.” She raises her eyebrows just a slight and it sends his heart throbbing in his chest.

“Guess there were two liars between us after all.” You muttered loud enough before you opened the doors and left.

He only breathes again when he’s fully alone.

And he only starts shaking again then.

“Just say it.” You mutter. He looks down at his hands. He feels it crawling back up his arms, threatening him to take it all back. But all he does is curl his hands into fists and keep his lips pursed. You just laugh in disbelief.

“You’re really going to drag me out here to face you and you don’t even have the balls to actually break up with me?” He doesn’t look up. The shame creeps up his throat and his face, leaving him with a burn he wishes isn’t visible.

“Fine,” You sound like you’re sniffling. “I’m breaking up with you then.” At this point, he has to refrain from stopping you. He fights every urge to stand up and call out your name, to beg on his knees so you don’t leave.

But by the time he finally looks up, you’re gone.

a/n: if you would like a 2nd part, sort of expanding on like why she was at the hospital and how this progresses, let me know! anyways, finals are over!! i don't know how to feel. this week has been a little bit of a roller coaster. i was feeling very nostalgic and it brought back a lot of memories, both good and bad. i hope everyone's doing good! i'll (hopefully) be updating more frequently now!

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sweethartlullaby · 4 months

Text

youth

word count: 271 genre/theme: angst, mention of death sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist

I know I’m not seventeen anymore. I’m not the teenage girl, thirsting for someone to finally listen to her. I’m not as broken anymore. I can say “I love you” to my parents without the pinch in my heart. I can talk to them about the things that happened after seventeen. I don’t crave him anymore. I no longer push against the winds for less. I no longer fight battles to be held. I am safe. I am loved. Yet, I read over the messages that I sent when I was seventeen. I sifted through millions of them, scrolling endlessly as I poured my heart into the hands of the people I trust. Then, I remember. I remember the things I was called. The loneliness that creeps back up my throat. The hatred for my soul, the willingness to leave. I remember why anger travels in my blood, why sadness is etched into my heart. I can never forget how my youth is forever tied to the people that I don’t talk to anymore. I thought the sea had washed it away. Someone must have opened the bottle and found seventeen me inside Still feeling, still hurting, still begging. I want to forget again. I want to scrub it off me. I don’t want to feel. I don’t want to remember; not the way I had to scream, not the way I was cast aside, not the way the promises made were broken. I wish to erase all of it. I used to pray to die. And now I pray for strength. Please don’t make me knock on death’s door again.

a/n: just a lil drabble. i'll be back with updates on 'you, among the art' and other stories soon! and if you're reading this, i hope you realize that even if you aren't seventeen anymore (or whatever age), it doesn't have to be a bad thing. you've changed and you're still here. we're all proud of you.

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sweethartlullaby · 5 months

Text

you, among the art iii

word count: 2091 genre/theme: fluff and angst later, sculpting series, graduate student and her professor/supervisor, female and male pairing as always, imagine whoever you would like... find part iv here sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist

“Shit, shit, shi-excuse me.” Why, out of all days, is today the busiest day?

And why, out of all days, is she late today?

His office is buried deep into the end of the hallway and its door seems to stare down at her as she approaches. She knocks twice quickly before she takes a deep breath and slightly opens it.

He’s wiping the blackboard when she looks in. He doesn’t directly look at her when he tells her to come in. Her fingers curl into her palm to stop herself from crumbling as she approaches his desk. She didn’t even get to look at herself before coming here. She has made bad impressions in the past so she’s hoping it doesn’t happen this time.

“You-”

“I’m so sorry I’m late.” She blurts out. Before she can repair the damage evident on his face, more words roll off her tongue. “I got the schedules messed up and I didn’t realize that there was a class today and that I should have been here much earlier than usual. I’m so sorry I just-”

“We don’t have class today.” His voice cuts through hers like a knife slicing through the air.

Her jaw hangs open with words lingering in the air. It’s unclear if he’s mad or not. He looks…the same. His lips are in the signature straight line, eyes a little more tired than usual, but nothing else.

No, he can’t not be angry, or even just a bit ticked off. He has to be. She’s late and has cut him off. More importantly, he cut her off too.

“As I was saying,” he dusts his palms off and nudges towards his desk. “You left your sketchbook here the other day.”

Ah.

“Oh, I…I’m sorry. I…” She can’t find the right words. Everything feels like a pile of letters in her head.

“Sorry.” She just murmurs, head hanging low.

“Well, as per your concern, you can introduce yourself to the students tomorrow. We can meet here at 0900 hours. I would like to run through the agenda and all the projects going on before we can start class.” She still can’t look at him but she nods slowly.

“Alright then, I’ll see you tomorrow.” She squeaks out an ‘okay’ before almost running to the door.

She’s following him like a dog. The students were giving her weird looks when she introduced herself. They act as if she is not supposed to be there.

“...wouldn’t you agree?” She snaps back to the small statue in front of her and quickly scans it.

“Yes.” She says, even though she has no idea what he just said. They’re currently looking through everyone’s group projects. She’s been making notes on whatever the professor says, adding her own along the way. However, she hasn’t really spoken much.

As if he reads her mind, he says, “Well, do you have any extra comments on their work?”

“I…Well…” From the corner of her eye, she can see the 4 students’ and his eyes all on her.

“I like the idea. However, I do recommend showing what you mean instead of relying heavily on your description.” She steps up and points to parts of the figure.

“It’s the size of a child’s doll so that means you don’t really have to worry about minor details. But you should take advantage of using clay. It’s much more malleable and therefore, it might be easier to bring your vision to life. This is a great first step and I’m excited to see how it turns out.” She smiles a little before she realizes she might have spoken too much. But the students nod before suggesting ideas. What is surprising though, is that he seems to be content too, with lips turned upwards just a slight amount.

A wave of relief washes over her. She answers as much as she can and the professor steps in when he needs to. She gets more comfortable speaking and by the end of it, she feels much more like herself again.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow?” She asks slowly as the last student leaves. He stops gathering his things and looks up at her.

“Oh right, I forgot to tell you.” Her heart drops a little.

“I have an emergency at home and I’ll be away for the rest of the week. I’ll be back Monday for class.”

“Oh.” While it’s not what she expected, her body still feels uneasy. There’s a beat of silence before she realizes something. “But, my monthly evaluation will be next Tuesday.” She says.

“Ah, right.” He hesitates, chewing down on his lip. “I’ll try to come back earlier but in that case, we will have to work on the weekend.” She twirls the loose piece of thread around her finger, fighting the urge to stand up for herself; but nothing comes out as he prepares to leave.

“And,” She holds a breath. “I usually hold office hours on Fridays so can I ask you to fill in for me tomorrow?” The way he says it sounds less like a question and more like a statement. She only nods.

“Thank you.” is all he says as he leaves her.

“I don’t know! I’m just a completely different person around him.” She groans into her palms.

“I think the nerves are getting to you.” Her friend chuckles.

“I’m literally the most outspoken person our class knows and I still can’t bring myself to speak to him sometimes! It’s ridiculous.” Her hands fall onto the desk, picking up the pencil she hasn’t used in the last thirty minutes; even though she says she would be doing work.

“Well, you did choose him. I personally think this was a long time coming.”

“That’s mean.” She narrows her eyes at her friend.

“Were our alumni warnings not enough?” Her friend crosses her arms and leans back on her chair.

She doesn’t answer. Is she being naive? She heard so many warnings about him and she still chose him. Ever since the first presentation, she’s been on edge around him and feels that she is constantly making the wrong move.

“What are you doing here anyway?” Her friend asks.

“I’m doing his office hours for today since he’s got some emergency to attend to.” Her friend only raises her eyebrow.

“Alright, that’s enough. Move.” She points towards the door and her friend walks out with her palms in the air. Just before she is fully out of the room, she says, “I’m just saying…”

“I don’t want to hear it!” She says without turning to her. When she’s alone again, she finally relaxes in his chair. Maybe she is just making too many excuses for him. He hasn’t been the friendliest, even though he was the one asking for her to accept him. It’s been almost a month and they have also barely worked on her project. She’s not the type to be scared but his presence itself tends to shut her up.

She sighs.

Has she made a mistake? Has she overestimated herself? No, she couldn’t have. She knows herself enough to know that she is strong enough for this.

“It’s just a challenge, not a threat.” She murmurs to herself before she sits upright. She repeats it to herself a few more times before she hears a knock on the door.

“Come in.” A student pokes his head in and looks around before he speaks.

“I’m looking for the professor.”

“He’s not here today. I’ll be taking over office hours. Do you have a question?” She smiles at him, hoping she doesn’t sound or look too nervous. The young man takes a few seconds before he fully steps in and takes the seat across from her. Their conversation lasts fifteen minutes and two more students come in after him.

It’s five in the afternoon when she finally starts working on her project. Just because he isn’t here, it doesn’t mean that she isn’t going to start working. So she puts a pair of earphones in and chisels away. The hours pass and she manages to finish the hands of her sculpture.

By then, it’s almost eleven. She hasn’t realized that most of the lights outside are off, and she is probably the only one in this part of the building. It’s way past dinner time and her legs can’t find the energy to walk her down onto the street and home.

And for some reason, it feels…hot.

So, she slightly pushes the windows open, hoping the wind can cool her off. With no one left in the building to help her, she’s stuck here.

I just need some sleep.

She takes a seat in her chair and leans forward on her desk, resting her head on her arms. Her body feels heavier than the other times she is sick. But with no medicine or energy, she’s left to lay on this hard desk, hoping the sleep will help.

When she wakes up, she sees light through the windows.

Her body aches when she moves so she stays still and slowly lifts her lids. It doesn’t make sense. She fell asleep on her arms so why does it feel like she is lying on a bed?

She looks around slowly and after a few seconds, she starts to feel the warm towel on her forehead and the blanket on top of her. A small grunt leaves her as she pushes herself up, feeling as if she is breaking free from a cast.

“You should keep lying down.” Someone says. Before she realizes it, she’s pushed back onto the bed gently and the blanket is pulled back up to her chin.

“S-Sir?” She asks in a whisper but he just shushes her as he fixes the towel on her forehead.

“Yes, just relax. I’m here.” He says softly but she cannot respond. He says a few other words but they’re too faint for her to make out. With her head drowning all the sounds out, she just listens to her breathing. Within a few short seconds, she falls back asleep.

“Thank you.” She says as he hands her a cup. The steam warms her cheeks as her palms hold onto the warm drink.

“I’m sorry.” He says as he takes a seat across her.

“You said that already.” They’re in his office and he set her down on the couch she had never noticed before. Apparently, she slept for almost twelve hours. Saturday’s sun greets them through his large windows, where a slight crack he left lets a small breeze in.

“I truly am.”

She sighs. “Then help me get my project together, just enough to convince the faculty that it’s going great.” She places the cup on a small table.

“Don’t worry, you have my undivided attention now.” He says with a small smile.

“What was your emergency anyway?” She asks as she quickly stands up which, she realizes all too late that, is a mistake. Her vision becomes dotted with colourful spots and just as she gets on her two feet, her knees buckle and she falls.

Except…she doesn’t.

She looks up and sees that he’s holding her by the arms. With one swift move, he pulls her up as if she’s a feather.

“Uhm…” She clears her throat as he places her back down on the couch.

“Take it easy. You’ve been lying down for hours now.” His voice is stern but not like the way a parent scolds a child. It’s a little…

“It was just something I had to deal with back home.” He speaks before she finishes her thought.

“I-I see.” What is she doing, stuttering?

“Hm,” He says and leans a little closer to her face as if he is suspicious of something. “That’s strange.”

“What is?” She says, looking down so he can’t see the red on her face.

“You seem to be quieter lately. I always thought you were a…” He pulls back and ponders for a bit, chewing down on his lip as he thinks. He does that a lot. It makes her wonder what it’s like to bite down on it too.

“A chirpier person.” She snaps out of her thoughts and blinks at him.

“I…I am.” She straightens herself and looks at him. He’s right. She shouldn’t be so scared of him. He’s just a tall, steely…caring…slightly sexy…man.

He chuckles at her and walks to his desk.

“Get up slowly this time. I’ll get a few things then we can head to your studio.”

a/n: this is part iii!! this is where it starts to get a little interesting! i'm really excited for the next few parts. they might take a while but i hope everyone's enjoying it so far! i understand that this might be less popular than the one shots that i usually write but i really wanted this to be a story with more plot and build-up than usual. thank you for reading and for your patience! i truly appreciate your notes and support <3

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sweethartlullaby · 5 months

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you, among the art ii

word count: 792 genre/theme: fluff and angst later, sculpting series, graduate student and her professor/supervisor, female and male pairing as always, imagine whoever you would like... find part iii here sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist

It’s her first day.

He spent about thirty minutes trying to pick out the perfect shirt this morning. Ever since the last end-of-year meeting, he has been very conscious of his fashion choices.

You’re already on such thin ice; try not to look like you hate it here.

He’s wearing a white shirt today, one his mother bought for him when he went home this summer. As fall approaches, he lets himself breathe. The air gently floats into the room, wrapping him with comfort. With the windows open, he leaves the cardigan hugging the chair.

He has been creating sketches in his notebook, finding things to fix even though he doesn’t need to. He can’t let himself sit idle. He has to stop himself from checking the time. With every tick of the wall clock, he grows even more nervous. He’s also a man of tea so the unusual cup of coffee today has his fingers shaking and his heart beating in his ears.

One minute before the scheduled time, he hears a knock on his door. He turns to see her head poking inside, searching the room until her eyes finally fall on him. All of a sudden, he feels so small.

“Oh, hello.” She says and smiles a little before she lets herself in. Her hair is in a low ponytail, and her light blue shirt sleeves are up to her elbows. Her dark pants almost hide the smudges of clay, but not well enough to his trained eye.

He studies her for a moment too long before he realizes he is supposed to speak.

“Uhm, hello.” He says. She stays by the door and all he can think about is that she is going to make a run for it any second now.

“Well,” She squeaks out before she clears her throat.

“Sorry, I’m not usually this nervous.”

“Do I scare you?” He says, half-joking.

“Oh, gosh no!” She finally steps closer to him.

“If I’m so scared of you, I wouldn’t be here.” She explains as she looks at his desk, a clutter of paper and ink.

“Are these your upcoming projects?” She asks, keeping her hands behind her back. He hesitates. How does he tell her he was such a nervous wreck that he took it out on his sketchbook? When he takes too long to answer, she speaks.

“Oh, sorry I didn’t mean to pry. I just-”

“They’re just ideas.” He says and he fights the urge to cringe at the way he says it. It’s always been a bad habit. The nerves make him cold and uninterested. It is probably why he barely speaks to anyone at gatherings.

“Oh.” She steps away from the table as if she crossed the line.

The coffee isn’t helping. He’s too freaked out to think of what to say. Should he apologize? Should he tell her it’s okay? He stands frozen, his tongue trying to push the words out. It takes him another two minutes of silence before he finally blurts out letters that he hopes form into words.

“Why not…I mean, why don’t you tell me about your…project?” He takes his cup into his hands to hide their trembling before he leans onto the window frame and watches her.

“Right! So, as you know…” She gets closer again and uses her hands to explain her vision. He doesn’t ask a lot. She seems to know what she’s doing. She knows what she wants. Her vision is tremendous and creative and he can’t help but watch in awe as passion pours out of her.

It’s in the way she speaks about her work. It’s in the way she moves as she describes it. It’s almost as if he can see exactly what she means.

“I understand that the final project may not even be tied to Black Swan but that’s actually what I am going for. I want even more fear and anguish than was shown. I want to capture so much in just one statue. It’s…” She exhales before she finally looks at him again.

“It’s a lot, I know. But…I’m excited.” The corners of her lips turn up into a small smile. It’s refreshing, to see someone so in love in this field again. It almost reminds him of why he is here in the first place.

“I think…it’s going to be amazing.” He says slowly. He’s never been the greatest with words, but that’s why he’s a sculptor. There’s much more for him to show than to say.

“I really look forward to working with you.” He brings his hand out and when she doesn’t take it immediately, he almost pulls it back. But then she grips him and gives him a firm shake.

“Me too.”

a/n: hellooo!! this is part two of the sculpting series. i'm soooo sorry if it sounds so choppy i honestly dk whats wrong with me. but i will try write better for the next parts!! i'm uploading a part iii right after this one since this is a bit short. i hope you enjoyed and i'd love to hear what you guys thought about it (pls be nice), who you imagined, and any songs that came into mind!

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sweethartlullaby · 5 months

Text

you, among the art

word count: 1550 genre/theme: fluff and angst later, sculpting series, graduate student and her professor/supervisor, female and male pairing as always, imagine whoever you would like... find part ii here sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist

“Have you picked out your supervisor?” Her friend asks as they stuff their books into their bags. Thursdays are always the calmest days. Students get let off early so professors can meet for their weekly meetings. Her friend likes to call them cult meetings.

They probably do rituals and all the statues come to life before they talk.

“Yeah, I think I’m going with…you know who.” She says as they step out of their lecture hall. She knows no name needs to be spoken for her friend to understand.

“You’re joking.” She shrugs as they keep walking.

“Do you not remember that horror story last year? He made that girl cry!”

“But she graduated with three job offers. That’s two more than the average.” She reasons.

“You know how you always say that this class, or that project, or this team, or whatever it is, will be the death of you?” She shakes her head with a small smile before they push through two big doors, going into the library.

“Having him as your supervisor will actually be the thing that takes you out.”

“I think the rumors are exaggerated.”

“You just tend to be naive.” She gasps and her friend only raises her hands in the air as if to say, I said what I said. They stop where the hallways meet and she turns to her.

“He might not even accept me. Maybe there’s another project more up in his alley.”

“I guess we’ll see next Thursday.” That’s when it hits her. It’s next week.

Her big presentation for a supervisor to scout her is next week.

“Shit, I’ve got to go.” She hisses before she waves goodbye and rushes to her studio. She snakes around the maze of hallways, thinking about what to work on today. It wasn’t like she was far from finished, but sculpting consumes more time than you think.

Even though it is in the same building, her assigned studio is far from the classrooms. She likes to joke that it is her weekly bout of exercise. When she passes the familiar statue of an angel opening her arms, she knows she is near.

Despite the distance, she loves that this is where she works. It’s quiet and it allows her to burst with so many ideas; sometimes, it feels too much. From the windows in her space, she faces the back of the angel, the illusion of her skirt pouring onto the floor. With the windowed dome above, rays of light shine on the statue, creating the most beautiful sight on this campus.

She takes her notebook out and flips to her most recent page. She was up figuring out the math behind her sculpture. It’s inspired by her favorite movie, Black Swan. The ballerina curls into herself as wings shoot out of her back in different directions. It is meant to portray the dancer falling into darkness as she tries to hold onto the pure image she currently has. How does she balance both at the same time?

The thing she isn’t quite sure about is the face. She’s always struggled with them and this time, she wants to perfectly capture the fear and excitement in each half of the face. There is only so much one can show with a still statue but she wants to make sure that it is the most that she is showing.

She looks back between the sketch and the statue a few times before she starts her work. She doesn’t have to finish it before Thursday, that’s what the supervisor is there for. However, she does have to show enough to convince the professors that her work is worth investing in. Scoring a supervisor will give her many benefits. Not only does she gain help in this final graduating project, but she gets more opportunities than if she were on this journey alone.

As she works, her mind drifts back to what her friend says. Yes, he has high standards. Yes, he made that girl cry. Yes, this might be a little ambitious. And yes, she is a little scared of him. But that isn’t enough to convince her not to go for it. He is the only one that she has considered as a supervisor. She’d be grateful for any other, but it’s him that she has her eyes on.

No, this isn’t crazy. This is just getting out of your comfort zone a little.

Seven days fly by and now she’s standing on the stage with her work behind her, and seats full of professors in front of her.

Her heart beats in her ears and she has to grip the microphone with two hands so no one can see her tremble. This is unlike her. She’s usually outspoken, the first to answer any question thrown at her. But for some reason, the faceless people seem to be terrifying her.

“Uh…” Breathe. They’re just people, after all.

“H-Hello.” Good. She introduces herself before taking another deep breath.

“I’m here to talk about my project, which is an inspiration from my favorite movie, Black Swan.” After that, it’s a breeze. She feels her muscles loosen and she starts actually speaking to her audience. She only has five minutes to present, with the next five for any questions.

They applaud when she finishes and the lights come on. Professors begin to raise their hands to inquire about her project and vision.

“I’d like to know why you chose that movie.”

She opens her mouth to answer but a short burst of laughter erupts from somewhere in the crowd. She thinks she must be imagining it from all the nerves but when she tries to speak again, it happens once more. She quickly looks for the source and her eyes find him trying to contain his laughter.

“My apologies, please continue.” He says but she is too stunned to speak. Did he, the professor that you’ve been eyeing, just laugh at her work?

“I…”

The room feels like it’s spinning for a bit and she has to remind herself that there are other people interested in what she has to show. But she can’t speak properly. She feels as if all hope has been sucked out of her soul.

“I chose…that movie…”

The rest feels like a blur. Those last five minutes felt like an eternity of shame and embarrassment on that stage. She answers the questions with as much enthusiasm as she can muster. It isn’t much.

When she finally steps out of the hall, she feels her knees collapse beneath her.

It’s over. He thinks I’m a joke. Everyone in that hall probably thinks the same.

She doesn’t know what to feel. Shame, anger, sadness? She sits there for a while, trying her best not to burst into tears.

“Letters are sent out.”

She doesn’t even want to check. She hasn’t told anyone about what happened. It’s too embarrassing.

She tries to avoid it as much as possible. Maybe she won’t ever have to open it. It’s probably a rejection letter. Maybe he had the time to write out what he didn’t like about her project and why he laughed at her. Maybe she is alone on this journey after all.

But as soon as she enters her studio, she finds the letter that has been slipped under her door.

She has heard many stories of this moment. They say interested professors leave their contact information on slips of paper. Some of them come with messages, others are just addresses and emails.

She clutches the pieces of paper in her hands, reminding herself to breathe.

“This isn’t going to break you. It’s just words. It’s just words.” She repeats to herself as she opens the first letter.

…Below is the list of professors who have expressed their interest in becoming your supervisor. Should you choose to contact any of them, please refer to the following pages on how to reach them. Congratulations and we wish you all the best.

The list isn’t long. There are only five names. And the very last one almost sends her heart flying out of her chest. His name, with the words ‘Preferred Choice’ in brackets right next to it.

She doesn’t believe it.

She flips to the last page and to her surprise and fear, there is a paragraph waiting for her.

Hello,

First and foremost, congratulations, and thank you so much for having me as your preferred choice. I wasn’t expecting anyone to even look in my direction after last year. I would like to take this time to apologize for my actions. I cannot fully explain why I laughed that day but I do want to stress that it wasn’t because I was undermining you and your work. I think what you have going on is brilliant and I am very excited to see how it turns out. I believe you have great potential and it would do me the utmost honor to guide you on this journey towards greatness. I understand that asking you to choose me after what I have done is audacious. But I promise you, I will do my best to make you a successful artist. I do hope you accept my request and I look forward to hearing from you soon.

a/n: hello!!!! i'm starting a series! this is part one of it and i'm really excited to release the rest. it might take a while since it is finals season but i will definitely aim to get everything out before the year ends or early in the 2024! thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy! i also hope you've all been well in this busy time.

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