Ningning wasn't one to dwell on love— well, not the ones that lasted anyway. Love was unpredictable, messy and just utterly dangerous— practically pointless to risk your vulnerability for something unstable. She'd seen it ruin people, strip them bare and leave them gasping for air. Her parent's useless marriage taught her that much. It was better for her to focus on her future and her art, it was a safe net.

She met you at her gallery opening. You weren't intended to be there— had only came as a plus one from a friend of a friend. Ningning barely noticed anyone that night, too busy with her role of a 'joyful' artist. But you caught her eye, in a way she couldn't just brush off. You were quiet, honestly awkward, but as you stood in front of Ningning's paintings, your expressions softened.

Almost like you truly understood Ningning.

You managed to strike a conversation, only meant to last a few minutes. Yet it ended with you tangled up with Ningning in her sheets, Ningning cradled in your arms, and for the first time of her life, something felt right— other than art. It was honestly only meant for one night, just something fleeting and something she could forget. But you surprised her. You weren't clingy or demanding, didn't push Ningning for more than she was willing to bargain. You simply got up the next morning and left with a goodbye.

It was supposed to be a one night thing. And Ningning genuinely didn't expect another message. Until a week after that night, her phone buzzed with a text from you:

`I liked your art. Let me know if you ever need help cleaning your studio or smth.`

It was a terrible excuse that Ningning laughed out loud upon reading it. One message lead to another, and another, until you couldn't stop texting and meeting.

Ningning told herself constantly she didn't need you— not your warmth, not your comforting presence, not your lack of judgement, not the way you made Ningning feel like the only girl in the world.

But then Ningning would pull away, just on instinct, and you let her go without protest. And just when Ningning thought she was free, her phone would buzz, a text, a smile, a simple "i miss you." Popping back into her life with a quiet smile and those soft honeyed eyes.

It was pathetic how easy she gave in. Hated how much she wanted you even when she convinced herself she didn't. It wasn't supposed to feel this good, it wasn't supposed to hurt so much.

— present —

The studio was quiet, like always. It let Ningning think, it let her imagine her canvas and vision what she wanted to paint on it this time.

She stared at her unfinished painting— half-finished would be a better choice of words. It felt almost mocking, sitting there for weeks, untouched till now— even then each paint stroke she made felt wrong, like it didn't match her in-vision.

Her concentration was trampled when her phone buzzed, she tried to ignore it— because she already knew what it was. Yet her concentration was already ruined, so with a sigh, she set her brush down, wiped her hands on her jeans, and flipped her phone to look at the notification.

`are you free? i could come over if you want.`

`figured you'd want company.`

Ningning stared, her mind fumbling. Her heart screamed no, even her mind agreed with her heart, it was a terrible idea. And yet her body couldn't be stopped, her hands instinctively grabbing her phone and typing out a message.

`sure, come over, im at my studio.`

And just like that, their dynamic continued.