#acajin

[acasuji-blog]

draw me like one of your french gi-- grow up! 

the sound of pencil scratching on paper is quickly drowned out by muffled sniggering coming from suji’s left, and she rolls her eyes midway through sketching out a bicep. they’ve been at this for not even half an hour, but already, jinyoung’s having difficulty staying composed. if she looks around the room, it seems as if he’s the only one finding this funny -- that, or everyone else is just really good at keeping a straight face. 

suji tries to concentrate on drawing, but when she can see shaking shoulders in her peripheral as jinyoung tries to stifle laughter behind is fist, it’s kind of hard to. she glances up at the model, standing in the centre of a circle of easels, and wonders if he can hear her friend’s badly concealed laughter. 

he’s nudging her shoulder and suji is trying to ignore him, but she knows if she does, he’s gonna keep going until he’s completely shoved her off the stool. pencil tip frozen on her paper, she looks -- glares -- in jinyoung’s direction, mouthing what. he hands her a folded slip of paper, and christ if this is another doodle of a dick... 

it’s another doodle of a dick. 

(and no, that is not suji trying not to laugh too.) 

@acajin

[acayug-blog]

➳ you are my anchor.

@acajin

      this was it, this was where yugyeom fell apart into small pieces. and by the end, those pieces would be far too small for anyone to pick up. but even so, he would find a way to pick himself up, build up some confidence so he could go on stage and perform. so he could impress the judges, and hopefully win first, second, or third place ( he didn’t care which, because no matter what, it still showed he had skill ). but right now he was so scared to even practice for the competition. he was absolutely terrified to even think about the possibility of being last, the disappointment he knew he would feel. 

     soft sobs left his throat, head in hands, his figure sitting on the floor. part of him wished that it didn’t have to be like this, that if he just believed in himself, he wouldn’t be so unsure of himself. but, every time he practiced, he felt himself waver and recently, he had been messing up some of the footwork. and every time he got a compliment, he had a small feeling that he needed to continue dancing how he danced when he got the compliment. 

    picking his head up, wiping away some stray tears ( which honestly, didn’t seem to stop falling ), soft sniffling filling the empty room. he tried to build himself up in his head, telling himself that he could do it, that he would do great, and the judges would be impressed with his dancing. but he felt himself just grow more insecure because the more he thought about it just scared him, making him wish that he didn’t sign up to go to the competition. he let out a soft ‘ahhhh’ ( in distress ), ‘ wh... why is... is it hard to... to do... do this... ’