serendipity ∙ jjk

four - rejected, again.

You enter the office within Yeri's parameter of time that is considered acceptable.

Letting out a relieved sigh, you look around at the scene of bustling bodies moving to and fro, each and every one of them are given a purpose and drive for being there. The temporary assistants like yourself are either perched behind a desk, trailing an official employee, or lounging by the water station with gossip and darting eyes, because no one wants to get chewed out by the boss for their lack of contribution and worse, meandering.

None of them are very concerned with their menial tasks, which is unfortunate through your eyes. Most of them are there to fulfill the internship requirement to graduate with a Bachelor's in English, some of which actually know little to no one in the department itself. You personally never stuck to the antisocial trend.

Next to being friends with most of the editorial staff, you're actually using this opportunity to broaden your portfolio, having already fulfilled the internship requirement a quarter ago with a publishing company awaiting to hire you after graduation. Your correspondence with them has led you back to this point, your previous mentor encouraging you to have a plethora of written material for personal experience and board approval.

Unlike your interning peers, you actually want to be here.

The workload is still mediocre at best. Most of your own experience stems from working with top-notch editors. It isn't like this quaint college newspaper department is supposed to be as big as what you grew accustomed to, but you are just a little put-off by the lack of challenge in your current assignments. Truthfully, you had hopes that Yeri, the head honcho and your long-time friend, would actually cut you some slack and believe in what you had to offer as a writer instead of just your coffee-running capabilities. You get her ambivalence about putting you on the frontlines, but even just reporting a small achievement for the Chess Club is some kind of experience to bigger things.

You just wish she would give you a chance to prove yourself.

Without stopping a moment longer to take in your usual Monday, Wednesday, and Friday surroundings, you scurry over to Yeri's desk with her mocha frappuccino still in tact. Your mind no longer lingering on your peers or even Coffee Shop Jerk from earlier, rather using all that previous irritation to fuel the adrenaline for this matter.

Meeting eyes with the hazel-eyed woman, you smile with a newfound determination. Here goes nothing.

"One medium mocha frap for you," you say, placing the white cup onto a clear spot. Her desk is filled with stacks of papers, a mixture of rough drafts and proposals for the collaboration the English and Film department are throwing together. Some of it might actually be her own work, but you try not to linger too long on her desk or she'll send you away.

"Thanks, Y/N," Yeri responds with a smile of her own. Some may say it's a rare sight, but you know better than them. You two go back as far as the freshman year of high school, as two driven, goal-oriented girls with a passion for separate branches of writing.

You respect her for her clean-cut demeanor and organized nature, and even with the loom of yet another rejection, you do understand where she's coming from. She demands perfection, and one small fuck-up reflects more on her than the actual writer. While you write creatively and freely, you feel her on that level. As a showrunner for just about anything, you inadvertently become the face of that show. And that kind of pressure is enough to make anyone cautious about the new and uncertain. However, one could say this is where you two differ.

Unlike her, you believe that it is possible for a good outcome in the new and uncertain, that perfection can only come from practice. Which is exactly why you don't leave the vicinity of her desk like you have countless times since the last time. You have long since decided that you would ask her to give you a chance, again. You did this twice in the beginning and received rejection each and every time, and it stung; but, with a good few months under your tool belt, you figure third time's the charm.