Tulip's day started like a storm. The math test her last hope for redeeming herself in the class had turned into a disaster. Despite pulling an all-nighter, her brain had failed to connect the dots. The numbers danced on the paper, mocking her. She stared at the test in front of her, and the sinking feeling in her chest grew heavier. What was the point of all that studying if I can't even remember the basics?
The frustration bubbled up inside her, like a pot on the verge of boiling over. She scribbled a hasty doodle in her notebook, the lines shaky and uneven. Stupid, stupid, stupid... Her mind churned with doubt, but she couldn't find a way to stop the flood of thoughts.
"You're gonna rip through the paper at this rate."
The message from Ren yanked her from her spiral. She glanced at the screen and found an image of a squiggly cat wearing oversized glasses. It was so absurd it almost made her forget about the test. Almost.
"Trying to out-doodle me, huh?" she typed back, snapping a picture of her own notebook. Her doodles were random patterns of spirals and stars but they seemed to lift the weight, if only a little.
"Wow, you're a prodigy," Ren replied, complete with a "Wow" emoji. Tulip couldn't help but smile, even if it was just a twitch at the corners of her lips.
After a few more exchanges, the conversation shifted.
"You good? You seem... off today."
Tulip paused, fingers hovering over the keyboard. She wasn't used to people seeing past the mask she wore so well. But Ren was different. He had a way of breaking down her walls, even if she didn't want him to.
"Just one of those days," she typed, "where everything feels meh. You know?"
His response was swift, and surprisingly, not probing. "Yeah. I know those days."
Tulip felt a small, unexpected comfort in his simple acknowledgment. He didn't push, didn't try to fix her.
"You're the kind of person who'd crush this eventually. You're… what's that word? Oh, persistent."
"You mean stubborn?" she shot back, the familiar spark of their banter lighting up her chest.
"Same thing," he replied, adding a shrug emoji.
The playful back-and-forth lightened her mood a little more.
"So, what made you start drawing?" Tulip asked, curious. She hadn't asked him this before, but his art was part of the person she admired.
Ren was quiet for a moment. "Honestly? I don't know. It's like… I can't not draw. It's one of the few things I feel like I'm good at. Even though I'm still figuring stuff out."
Tulip's brow furrowed in disbelief. "Still figuring stuff out? You're insanely talented. Like, I don't know anyone who can do what you do."
Ren paused again. The ellipsis lingered. "Thanks, but… Sometimes it feels like I'm faking it, you know? Like people just hype me up because they feel bad."
Tulip's fingers hovered over the keyboard, her heart heavy for him. "That's not true, Ren. You're incredible. And I'm not just saying that to be nice. Butterflies can't see their wings. They can't see how truly beautiful they are, but everyone else can. You're just like that."
The silence that followed was almost comforting, though Tulip couldn't help but wonder what Ren was thinking.
"Maybe," he replied, letting the subject fade.
The weight of his vulnerability stuck with her. She hadn't expected him to open up like that, and in a way, it made her feel less alone in her own insecurities.
As evening crept in, they shifted gears. The conversation meandered from anime recommendations to funny moments from Tulip's childhood, before they finally ended up playing a round of online chess.
Tulip was no match for Ren's strategy. Each move he made was calculated, and with every piece he took, her frustration grew. "I swear, you're cheating," she muttered as she moved her queen too hastily, only to watch Ren's rook swoop in and claim her last pawn.
Ren grinned, sending her a gif of an anime character with a smug smile.
"I'll beat you someday," Tulip declared, half-laughing, half-frustrated.
"Not a chance," Ren shot back, his words dripping with playful confidence.
Tulip groaned, leaning back in her chair. "One of these days," she repeated, and despite the sting of defeat, she found herself genuinely smiling. The weight of the test, of her doubts, seemed to lift just a little. Maybe it wasn't so important to have everything figured out all the time.
As she logged off, she felt lighter than she had all day. She grabbed her notebook, and with the corners of her lips still upturned, she doodled a little butterfly its wings unfurling in tiny, confident strokes. Maybe it wasn't perfect, but for the first time today, Tulip didn't need it to be.