Hello, Stranger [BEN HARDY]

III: Found You

Azlin sighs and rubs her temples in frustration, starting to feel a headache seep into her head. She crumples the sketch she had been working on over and over again, still not satisfied with it. She aimlessly throws the crumpled paper into the trash bin and stands up, finally giving up for the meantime as there's no hope for her to think of anything with this growing headache. She's not sure if it's because of the pressure, or it's just a simplemental block, or because her mind still cannot keep up with how fast things have been happening around her lately. Either way, it doesn't seem like she would be any more productive today.

Azlin gulps the rest of her water and stretches, then decides to walk towards her paintings arranged on one corner of the studio. She had brought some of her best works with her upon moving into L.A., and five of these are going to be displayed at the exhibit; well at least, that was the original plan. After her meeting with the curators three days ago--in which they had come to an agreement for her to display five pieces--she immediately came to the studio to try and choose among her works that she had brought. However, she realized that something felt missing. Although she was satisfied with her sculptures, they all generally portrayed flowers, foliage, vines and textures of the like, but other than the fact that they were visually pleasing, there was really nothing else that the viewers could take away from them. Azlin wanted more; she wanted something to give. Something more interesting that will surely make them remember her art.

And so she decided that she would display four of her existing works instead of five, and she'd create the fifth one; One that would be her best masterpiece at this point of her career, and would be the main subject of her exhibit. The only problem is she only has a month to do it, and three days have already passed and she has no idea what to do yet.

Azlin's thoughts are disrupted as she hears her phone vibrate against her work table. Still trying to rub away the headache, she heads back to the table, wondering if she had set an alarm for something at midnight. However, what she sees almost gives her a heart attack. She clicks open the notification that leads to her Instagram, and indeed, Ben Hardy had just messaged her.

Ben FREAKING Hardy.

She stares at the screen for a few more seconds, not able to believe it really is him. No, it cannot be him. It must be a prank right? She opens his profile and quickly scans the pictures, then checks other more similar accounts. However, in just a minute later, the shock finally sinks into her and she slumps into her chair.

It's the only account under his name with a verified badge. It really is him.

Biting her lip, she thinks about what to reply.

How did you find my account?

She nervously waits for his reply. A few seconds later, her phone beeps.

Not many artists named Azlin around here tbh

Amazing work by the way!