Having both Sid and Maize in our group, it was impossible to have dead air. I take a glimpse at Terrence who is busy eating like me.

He has ordered some pasta and his posture makes me feel as if I'm eating in a high-class restaurant, not the school cafeteria. I can totally swear he is the most graceful person I have ever seen to behave with proper manners, even when we were children — only if he shuts his mouth.

"Sure it is. Look it up." Maize's tone raises a little higher.

"You're kidding," Sid says but he still whips up his phone before his gaze falls on me. "You're actually Remy?"

I almost choke at the ridiculousness of his question. "Who else?"

"No, what I mean is, you're the painter Remy E.?"

My head bobs. "It's not like a deep secret or something."

"But didn't you always use your full name before?"

"Pseudonyms are better," I confess. After knowing what a failure I am, leaving my surname behind is the least I can do. Not to mention referring to myself as Rembrandt in art competitions can only be described as shameless when I don't even have an ounce of his talent.

"I see now. I thought it was just a coincidence that your art style is similar. I—"

"Who else is coming tomorrow?" Terrence interrupts.

"Some high school classmates and some from here." Sid faces me again. "I really thought you stop painting. Luckily, you did not. Your art always has a special charm. I should've known why—Ow! Why'd you step on my foot?"

"My bad. There's a bug," Terrence comments, clearly lying.

"OMG! Really!" Maize stands, causing her chair to fall back from the seat behind us.

"Calm down, Maize. How can there be a bug here?" I say and pull her back. "It's impossible for the university's cafeteria to be unsanitary."

"My gosh! You're right. Sorry bout that. I despise bugs, in case you didn't notice yet," she mumbles. "Anyway, what were you saying, Sid?"

"Nothing. I don't want to get mistaken as a bug again," he says, amusement fluctuating in his words.

I almost roll my eyes, realizing what he implies. As for the person guilty, he is swirling his fork on the plate as if nothing happened.

"You really got me there." Maize giggles, eventually regaining her composure and the two begin another round of endless topics.

🎨 🎨 🎨

Friday lunch breaks are always the longest. By the time we finish, we still have an hour and a half before our next class. Though we're not classmates on the next one, our schedule is almost the same.

"Want to have some boba tea outside? I heard they're a good place right across the street," Sid suggests.

Maize's eyes light up at the mention of her favorite drink. "Yeah! It's the best. I'm suddenly craving for one too."

We all agree and follow along Maize. Since the shop mostly serves drinks and desserts, it has only a few people inside during this hour.

"Maize, want to come along with me to order?" Sid urges.

I instantly clutch the hem of Maize's sweater.

"Is it okay if we sit here? Or... Remy and I will order since you two volunteered for lunch," she says while I repress a sigh.

Luckily, all those late-night talks about how I don't ever want to be with Terrence have paid off.

"It's my first time trying and you mentioned you know this place. Terrence's taste buds are as bland as water and Remy only knows coffee so that leaves me no choice."

"Maize can just recommend one for you and we'll order," I counter.

"But I want to see their list. You know, I can't decide until I'm on the counter, right?"

My brow arches. I sneak a peek at Terrence who is already settled down in his chair.

"Why don't we all just order together," I propose, even though I'm aware it sounds like a hassle.

Sid snorts but Terrence's reply comes faster than his.

"Just get whatever, Sid. This place is good as they say."

"But what if I'm allergic? I won't know unless I can ask them," Sid persists.

"It's us two, then." I declare to stop this useless back and forth.

"But—"

"Shut up, Sid," I mutter, scowling, before turning towards the other two and smoothening my expression. "What do you guys want?"

"I'll take the original," Terrence responds.

"Cookies and cream for me," Maize adds.

"Got it, let's go." I grasp his arm, towing him to the counter.

Sid doesn't fuss as much when we are relaying our order. It only takes us a few minutes. We wait on the side when Sid speaks up.

"How come you and Terrence are ignoring each other this long?"

My lips become a straight line, never planning to answer.

"In our first-year high school, I was really surprised he visited me alone when the two of you are always together. I heard you transferred at the last minute. You don't even answer our calls and messages."

I lean on the countertop, crossing my arms while still pretending to be deaf.

"It's been four years. I can't believe you hold such long grudges. Terrence won't talk about it and I'm confused about what the hell happened back then. I still remember how you two made me a third wheel when taking the grad photo."

The last sentence definitely hit a nerve.

"What third wheel? Besides, it's been so long ago."

He stifles a laugh. "Aren't you two always acting like lovebirds in front of me? And you're right it's been so long so why are you still avoiding him—"

"I'm not," I reply so quickly I hate it.

"You are. It's painfully obvious, Remy. I'm sure Terrence is not insensitive not to notice it."

'So how do they want me to react? What can I do when his words are embedded in my soul and eat up my confidence?' I struggle to go keep those sentiments to myself while he continues.

"I just want to see you both makeup. You never fought before and the first time you did cause this."

And that's where he is wrong. Of course, we fought a lot, mainly when we were kids. Sid joined us during middle school so he never saw our petty phase.

"It's—"

"Here's your order, Ma'am, Sir," the waitress cuts in and puts the plastic cups on the tray.

"Thanks." Sid takes it and we head back to the table.

Surprisingly, Maize and Terrence are chatting like they are long-time friends. This is the first time they are alone because I'm always attached to Maize when we have been grouped last time.

I know Maize always has this effect with anyone while Terrence can appear approachable if you ignore the air of arrogance that's like his second skin. But somehow, this scene makes me...

'Urgh. I don't know what I'm even feeling.'

"What's up?" Sid says and sets the cups on the table.

"Oh, I just learned that Terrence took apprenticeships with several famous artists since he is young. No wonder you've become a prodigy!"

Terrence's smile stiffens for a moment before he replies, "My uncle did paved a way for me so it's easier..."

"I can see that. Dean Wright's connection must be amazing since he's a world-class talent. It's widespread how he only showcases one artwork a year and everyone is scrambling for it. Though, I heard he has his own gallery to exhibit all his personal works?" Maize says.

"Oh, I heard that too but no one knows where it is," Sid comments. "Have you seen it, bro?"

I feel Terrence stare at me as a memory springs in my head — two children lurking in a haunted mansion just to find countless beautiful paintings decorating the interior and Dean Wright dressing up like a vampire. His eccentricity has never known its bounds even way back.

"So have you?" Maize probes too.

"I can't say," Terrence answers.

"You know that's basically a yes?" Maize says, grinning. "But come to think of it, you've been painting your whole life. That's some dedication, right there."

"I won't be here if I don't have one," he replies with a hint of pride.

"True. If I'm half as talented as you, I'll be taking those opportunities left and right, too."

"That's impossible. Talent alone can't suffice. You have to be like me."

My face scrunches. This is why people assume he's an arrogant jerk. Though I have to note I'm surprised he manages to make Maize speechless, I quickly try to clarify things.

"What—"

My words are overshadowed by Sid's laughter.

"Damn, bro. You're really burning some dreams right now. Don't misunderstand, Maize. I'm sure he means differently."

"Oh!" She nods as if truly understands what's going on. "No wonder Remy says you can infuriate a lot of people—Ouch!"

I jab her waist before she can say more. She squints at me while I try to signal her through my eyes.

Terrence clears his throat. "Yeah. What I mean is, you have to work hard as well."

That I have to agree. I've witnessed all his efforts before and if I am to be honest — which, again, I'm not — I find it quite inspiring.

Then I realized the fact that he's a genius and works hard so a normal person like me, who can only work hard, will surely have no chance.

"I see. I see. That makes sense obviously," Maize says, nodding with full interest.

"Hold on, why don't you message Uriel now, Remy?" Sid brings up.

My brow raises, thinking what on earth he is planning again. "Later."

"What if you forget? You obviously won't use him as an excuse not to go, right?"

I grind my teeth, preventing myself to say some sharp words I can't retract.

"I actually need to confirm so I can get tell Mom the number of guests," he adds, making me want to poke the straw at his face.

But, I still open my phone. I type in a message while everyone's staring at me. "What?"

"Nothing. By the way, Maize, if Remy agrees, I'll fetch you that day."

"Sure thing. Who'll deny a free ride?"

My phone pings and Maize inclines to me. "Oh, he says yes!"

I grimace at her loud speech but my eyes are still stuck on the screen.

Of course, I should have seen it coming. Uriel's a guy that hardly says no. Now, I can't even lie to Sid.

"Nice," Sid says. "So are you going to class after this?"

"What else? My professor is strict and I can't be late for her class," Maize grumbles.

"How about you, Remy?" Sid queries. One thing I like about Sid is he always manages not to let people leave out of the conversation but that's before. Now, I just want him to treat me like I'm invisible.

I take a long sip before replying, "I'll be dropping by the art store."

"What are you buying?"

"A new sketchpad."

The last one has been so thin after I pull out countless sheets of trashy sketches.

"You don't have to. I'm sure Terrence has a lot of stock in his studio," Sid offers, motioning to Terrence. "Right?"

"No thanks," I reject before Terrence can answer.

"There's a—"

I swear I hear my patience snap. I slam the plastic cup back onto the table. Annoyance is bubbling inside me when he's been pushing my buttons all this time.

But, I manage to fake a smile when I say, "I can buy my own things, okay?"

He nods, wide-eyed, and turns to Terrence, hovering over a different topic that, hopefully, won't piss me off.

🎨 🎨 🎨

I arrive at the lecture room just in time before the clock on my phone turned three. I proceed to where I typically seat and Uriel's already there — his neck buried in a bunch of papers.

"Hey, did you have lunch yet?"

"Yeah. I grab a sandwich when I head here."

"That's good. I won't disturb you then."

He puts down his pen and catches my gaze. "Feel free to always disturb me. You're a welcome distraction."

'Happy crush, happy crush.' I keep the mantra but my heart is already free falling, accompanying my brain malfunction. 'Why is he saying these?!'

A soft chuckle pulls me back to reality.

"I'm joking," he says, rubbing my head.

I brush his hand away, trying to hide the rising embarrassment. "Stop it. Why are people so fond mess up my hair?"

"It's fluffy," he says.

"I'm not a dog," I refute, my nose wrinkling.

"Yeah, you're cuter."

Now that shut me up again. Is it just me or has he been way too playful lately? At this rate, this is bad for my heart.

"You're joking again. Just finish what you're doing. It seems like the professor will be late again."

"Probably." He shrugs and returns to his work.

I take out my sketchpad, staring at the nonsensical lines spread on the white paper. Terrence is right. My sketches do looks like it is scribbled by a kid. Sighing and twirling my pencil, I try to imagine but am blank as a slate.

'Romantic love?' I don't think I can portray it well.

'Familial love?' It'll be nice but what if my parents don't like it?

'Self Love?' I doubt I can do it when I don't even like myself.

'Unconditional love?' But for who?

I rest my elbows on the table, letting out a deep sigh. 'Urgh! Is there any kind of love that I can do?"

While I am delving into my own world for a couple of minutes, somebody taps my shoulder. I glance up to see Uriel packing his things.

"The class representative chatted and said Professor won't be here today," he states.

"Really?"

He nods. "By the way, there's an exhibition held at the Delacroix Hall. Want to come?"

"Oh, who's the artist?"

"They invited foreigners and one of them is Wang Yi Han."

I jump from my chair at the mention of the name. "Are you sure? Let's go!"

To see one of the famous surrealist artists' works up close will be amazing. I didn't even bother organizing and simply dump my things in my bag.

"How did you know?" I say as we exit the room.

"Well, aren't you curious why most of our professors are not here? They're probably in the hall. Check up the forums."

"I thought you're not the type to check the forums like me?"

"After what happened last time, it is best to be informed."

"Oh..." I instantly recall the issue last time.

If he didn't clarify, I'm sure things will drag on.

"I guess I have to do it too. Else, I would've missed these kinds of events."

He chuckles. "Right. I initially thought there was nothing but gossip there."

"Same thoughts. Come on, let's hurry." I held on to his wrist and we dash to the venue.

🎨 🎨 🎨

Students flooded the place when we reached there. There's a long line at the entrance but with excitement brimming in my body, I don't even notice the time.

It's finally our turn and I show my ID. We stroll inside, inspecting each artwork that we pass by. We eventually reach what I have come for.

I study Mrs. Wang's paintings. Everyone has been amazing so far but I'm always pulled in by her works. She's someone I aspire to be but I don't think I ever will.

She's known for having monochromatic color schemes but her subject has always been intriguing.

The blue-toned canvass depicts a man's face slowly forming as the woman's body peels away. The painful gaze of the latter opposes the blank look on the man. It's as if all her efforts are in vain when she gave her everything to him.

"This is astounding. What do you think—"

I stop the moment I turn, gaping at Uriel who is now wearing a dark hoodie and covering his head.

Imagining him wearing shades and a face mask, the resemblance is there. His build is almost the same as that guy who always shows up during my competitions.

His laugh wakes me from my trance. "Why do you look so shocked? And you're right. She totally deserves winning the Artprize last year—"

"Can you stand there for a moment? Don't look back, okay?"

"Huh?"

"Just a minute." I twist his body toward the wall and stand behind him.

I admit most guys our age are the same height and that black hoodie can be very common but...

What if he's hinting at me? Or maybe I'm just hoping it's him. 'Should I just ask?'

I gather my resolve and speak. "Do you always visit museums?"

"Yeah."

"And you always wear a hoodie or something?"

He nods once more with a ghost of a smile on his lips. "I get cold easily so I bring an extra hoodie."

"So, have we met before college?" I continue, eagerness lacing my voice.

"I think so?" He avoids my gaze as he scratches the back of his neck. "I've seen you a couple of times before, to be honest."

Lines on my forehead appear. "Really? Then why do you always avoid me? We could've been friends a long time ago."

"We don't really know each other so I don't know how to approach you," he explains.

"Point taken but this is a perfect coincidence! Tell me more about your visits to the museum," I say, gushing with enthusiasm.

By the time he finished speaking, I'm now hundred percent sure that he must be the hooded guy that has me curious all these years.

Note: Hello, lovelies~ have some inconsistent editing phase because it's just classic me to lose motivation by the next week and I can't just post my drafts without editing because the number of red lines is embarrassing ><

Also, Artprize is not a typo btw, it is one of the prestigious awards and you have to check Ran Ortner. I never knew waves can be so interesting but his work made me change my mind. the details are just (*♡∀♡)