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December 14, 2019 —14:27 ( PM )
Several fashion students forage through the gigantic classroom atelier, moving synchronous like bees in a hive.
Some of them are on the hunt for something—anything—that will spark the fuse that leads to their final hunch, and desperately skim through the plethora of fabrics their school has offered up for grabs, while others take a step back from their project and inspect it from every possible angle, praying that they hadn't overlooked an error this close to the final deadline. But even with the ever growing turmoil that busies every single student—the classroom is silent, the serene atmosphere only occasionally interrupted by the whirring of a sewing machine as it pieces fabrics together, and perhaps the unlucky drop of a pin.
The silence is uncanny, and occupies too little space in her head, allowing her thoughts to run rampant; Elaheh Rezavi is close to losing her mind.
She hasn't had a good night's sleep in days, and the discolored skin beneath her tired, brown eyes is the most obvious sign of this—though the violent tremble of her fingers isn't that hard to miss, either. Song Eunseok, one of Elaheh's seatmates and also her project partner, can only stare at her in concern. He knows her well enough to recognise the destructive spiral she's entered, in which she drives herself crazy with perfectionism, and that it can only be so long before she collapses.
And to be quite honest, Elaheh herself isn't sure how she is still left standing either. Regardless, she pushes through, and continues to stitch her textiles together with shaking hands. May it be her ridiculous caffeine intake that is speaking, or just the stubborn nature of her mind: it doesn't matter.
She will finish this project on time and ace it, even if it is the last thing she does.
Eunseok, of course, says nothing, knowing it will only set her off. But his caring eyes speak volumes as they close in on her frowning face every minute or so, staring skeptically before he desperately tries to conceal his worry by refocusing his vision on the pencil in his hand. Elaheh had felt his irises burn her skin minutes prior, but she only now chooses to move her gaze up from her project to meet his eye.
"What?" she whispers.
Eunseok shrugs and cocks his head at her.
"Nothing," he whispers back, and pokes the side of his forehead with his pointer finger, "just starting to get the impression that you have forgotten how to breathe through your stomach."
"I have not." Elaheh retorts without missing a beat and hastily takes a deep breath.
Eunseok clicks his tongue at that, and nods his head slowly.
"Right."
Elaheh mirrors him mockingly and sucks in a breath, "Mind your business. I'll hit you."
