TWICE ONESHOTS

Ep. 4 | CHAEYOUNG

Word Count: 3.8 k

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"This is so stupid."

Chaeyoung complaint compelled you to roll your eyes, a redundant sigh escaping you. "I heard you the last three times you said it."

Your deskmate slumped against the side of her bed, nimble fingers fidgeting with a slightly chewed pen as she watched you create a rough outline of the halle comet on a large poster board—she thought it was more entertaining than trying to gather the essential information your teacher had required to be provided. You could feel her eyes observing every flick and stroke of your pencil as you struggled to copy the image from your laptop.

The task had deemed itself to be more complicated than you thought, and after one more final attempt, you tossed the writing utensil to the side in frustration. "This is so stupid."

Snorting at your disgruntled attitude, Chaeyoung reached for the pencil. "How about this; I'll draw and you get the stats. I'm dying of boredom over here." She shuffled closer before you could object, shoving her textbook your way.

Not bothering to argue, you grabbed your backpack and started to sift through the supplies you had brought along to her house. Markers, pens, pencils, scissors, binder...

Removing your binder from your bag you flipped it open, only to be met with other assignments and notes from varying classes. Groaning, you said over a shoulder, "Chaeyoung do you have notebook paper?"

"Yeah—top drawer of my desk," She answered without looking in your direction, her short hair falling to cover the side of her face.

Nodding to yourself, you shoved your things back in your bag and stood, making your way toward her desk. It was rather cluttered, which didn't shock you in the least, but still organized in probably a way only Chaeyoung would understand.

You grabbed the first drawer's handle and gently pulled, exposing the mess that was inside. Grumbling to yourself about how Chaeyoung couldn't possibly be able to find anything in this chaos, you began to poke through her things. Managing to spot a spare journal—which you noted was not looseleaf paper like you had asked—you carefully maneuvered the notebook out from underneath all of her art supplies.

Hip-thrusting the drawer shut, you flipped the journal open, eager to get on with the research you did not want to do, simply to get this project over with. But as you overturned lined pages, you came to realize this was a sketchbook—and you were the starring subject.

"Chaeyoung," you called, eyes trained on a drawing of you slumped over a book in the school library (you recalled this day rather vividly).

The auburn-haired girl finally looked up from her spot on the carpeted floor. She quickly realized what was in your hands. "Shit," she couldn't help but mutter in panic. Chaeyoung rushed to her feet, already reaching to take the sketchbook from you. "Sorry, you weren't supposed to-"

You said her name again, interrupting her explanation with "You would've saved me a lot of time had you been the one to draw that ridiculous comet from the get-go."

Chaeyoung's arm fell to her side, and she tried to calm her racing heart with a deep inhale. She scratched the back of her neck sheepishly, invisible strings tugging on the corners of her mouth when she realized you weren't pissed at her. "Yeah, i guess you're right." she paused before adding, "You're a really shitty artist."

Your eyes flickered to hers immediately, and you snapped the journal shut before smacking her left upper arm with it. "Hey! i tried my best, okay? We can't all be as talented as you."