fuck buddies don't act like this (Gojo x Reader)

Chapter 33

The once empty quiet halls of the many art blocks now run rampant with unbridled chaos from all the factions swarming and hitting the current. Mixing trends, personalities bouncing off the walls and each other, artistic criticisms both warranted and unwarranted flying out the window. Acrylic paint dousing most of anyone's skin, thrown away clothes that no one minds getting dirty or destroyed in the process.

This many art students in a room working semi-coherently is never in any waking moment a good day, too many strong overwhelming personalities racing to first place. Heck if it wasn't for art students typically common trait in being physically starved to do anything than be the hunchback of Notre Dame, this right now would be a blood bath. Battle of the end of days, colosseum type of drama going down between the warring states of fine artists, contemporary artist and anime artist don't even get you started on the dance kids.

Thankfully God balanced out the crazy artistic freaks apart from the athletic Greek gods that are found on campus B, that many if not accounting to half of the populace here are as weak as a dried-up twig. But have no fear unlike how you were three months ago just a brain dead zombified wreck of a human being after finding out your first boyfriend had cheated on you the kind likes of Morgan was there to put you on the right course. You've lost 8 pounds of fat and gained 8 pounds of muscle, stronger thighs, rounder ass, flatter stomach and what put's the icing on the cake is that you can hold all your art equipment without much of a struggle.

All thanks to the ex-boxer Morgan for picking you up and also... Gojo for teaching you what true stamina really means. At least now away from the sticky ties he had on you, everything seems to be going steady. You and Usui are off to a good start, seeing him later today for an afternoon tea at one of the cuter little cafes dotted around the city. Your hand picked art team working respectively at a relatively okay speed, no one has moved forwards as the overbearing dictator forcing everyone to pick up after them. Astounding to imagine even when it comes from the likes of the contemporary artists working alongside people that solely only believe that oil paints is the superior art form is something else.

Revolutionary.

The many groups in the art college that are participating either out of forced extra credits by squeezing lard from a cheesecloth or the sheer willpower alone to willingly do something other than be cooped up like some caged vampire is shocking to the core.

In your group they begin finishing up on clearing the work stations, the long ago damaged wooden table top marked with cemented juts, grooves of love sick initials from years ago. Stained scratches glazed by the many layers of varnish and finally old, fresh and wiped away paint displayed before you as the group sets aside the large banner. Every team was given tasks and roles to fill out upon, like Morgan's group was given the task of sorting out refreshments whilst yours is given the task of making a mural banner to be displayed somewhere on the quad for the visitors to see.

"L/n-san, can you go out to wash these?" Mizono asks shrugging off her discarded old man's pinny shirt around her waist, paint splotches marking her cheek and forehead from when she rubbed it earlier.

Looking down upon the stack of brushes the group has used as a whole is surprising to say the least, not many were used as you thought but seeing how much clearing up they are doing you're secretly thankful to Mizono for picking you to do the easier task. Gathering them without much of a protest, taking the murky water basin jar using it to easily carry the brushes into, you bid a quick farewell to the group ever so thankful that the sinks for once are not in the same vicinity as the group. It's not that you didn't enjoy working alongside other artist from different sectors, that would be snobby of you to assume so, but unlike everyone else who seemed to be in an uproar about anything and everything that crossed their minds your group worked effectively well enough.