Pressure [hs au]

29 - Elation

(a/n: i'm dumb i'd said i'll update when I hit 4k reads on this book, BUT i officially have graduated school now as of the end of December, BUT I just got the flu which turned into pneumonia which is all gone now, I just have some weird thing that according to my doctor is not bronchitis but it has all the same symptoms idk BUT IM BACK SO YAY?!)

Word count: 2836

"Just don't move." I tried to bite back the bitterness laced in my tone, failing thoroughly.

My ribs were still sore from the tattoo I had gotten a few days ago and thankfully it's already having healed over. I must have woken up on the wrong side of my bed apparently, having been this, if not more, bitter all day.

One of my classes was focusing solely on the human figure, requiring a hired model off of their registered list. This specific  model, being the only one available during my proposed time, couldn't seem to comprehend just how to sit still.

She nodded, I think her name was Lacey, breaking pose once more. I let out a lightly agitated sigh, attempting to finish my piece.

We sat in an open studio, the vast room echoing every pencil mark I made.

Lacey had her legs crossed, sitting perfectly upright on a tall wooden stool. Her hair was in a pony tail higher than I thought possible, and she had obviously overdrawn red lips on.

One critique I always received from judges in any contest I ever entered my art in throughout high school, was that I made people look better than they really did. Part of the perfectionist in me seeked a flawless image; I always would smooth over skin, or forget a few stray hairs here and there.

I don't know if I would say it was a challenge to draw every imperfection perfectly, but it did somewhat annoy me; I had some messed up idea of perfection glued to my brain, thanks society.

It was annoying only in the sense that this girl was probably expecting some beautiful portrayal of her shining personality in a masterpiece 10x10 image, but will only get a slightly above average looking masterpiece depicting her true figure.

Harsh.

I never liked being forced to work with someone just because they are the only one left, so maybe I'm being overcritical.

I sigh again, ignoring my up-tight conscious telling me about the obvious bitch I'm being and continue to work, glancing up every so often.

"How much longer?" Her strange accent breaks my focus, snapping the small string that was holding my cool together.

"Now. Done. Thank you." I drop my pencil, running my hands through my hair. I really need to cut it soon, it's getting too long for me to manage.

"Great, is it cool if I se-"

"No sorry, thanks again. Goodnight." I click my pencil case shut for the sake of being over dramatic; I'd just have to finish it from a few pictures I took some other time.

Lacey tuts her tongue in her mouth, her heels clacking loudly against the cement flooring as she exited.

As soon as the door snapped shut behind her, I let out a frustrated groan, reopening my pencil case.

The second she showed up, 15 minutes late might I add, I knew she would be difficult to work with.

It was already well past 10 at night, and this assignment was due tomorrow.

Fuck.

My pencil began to dull, thin and smooth lines growing in size and roughness. I have to consciously remind myself to not press down too hard, in fear of tearing the paper.