Seulgi sits in the empty art room on the worn out leather couch that had probably survived thousands of other students’ nervous spells, staring at the snowy love seat her model would be posing on, a handful of canvases propped next to her, cases of paint and pastels settled on the cushion beside her. She’s beyond nervous, her leg bouncing and down at an alarming rate, and her fingers leaving the imprints of sweat marks on the screen of her iPhone as she waits for the text from Wendy that would let her know when the model arrived. Maybe arriving a half an hour early wasn’t such a good idea after all. Her mouth is drier than a desert and her mind is racing faster than she can process. Maybe she should try and wipe the sweat off on her jeans, maybe she should get a bottle of water, maybe start setting up her easel so she can look more professional when the model walked in.
Look more professional? Her hair’s a shade of natural blond after coloring it herself in her bathroom with Wendy following suit quickly after her. Dyeing her hair was always something Seulgi’d wanted to do, every since she’d seen photographs of flawless girls with pink and emerald locks posing for photos in magazines. Their laughter had echoed endlessly in the small room as they smeared their hair with bleach through pairs of plastic gloves and stared at their reflections afterwards with a sense of ease. Her outfit was something you’d catch a glimpse of on Tumblr; black skinny jeans tucked neatly into a pair of spotless Doc Martens, a black graphic tee of a famous American band hanging on her frame. It had taken her a while to build up her wardrobe to what it is now; she’d gone through the usual phases through high school until she worked up to what she wanted to look like around sophomore and junior year. Most art students had a typical look: hair a shade of vivid color, clothes ranging from hipster to goth to...