svt · junctions

viii. xmh

Xu Minghao has always loved drawing.

It's what he does day-in, day-out.

He's got nothing to do at home? He draws.

He doesn't have the patience to pay attention in class? He draws.

He wants to fill the silence of the room as he chills around with Wonwoo? He draws.

He doesn't want to listen to another one of Seungcheol's scientific theories? He draws.

It's one of the very few things he enjoys, and his desire to get better at it pushes him to do some unspeakable things.

Wait, no.

He hasn't murdered anyone over it, so it probably isn't that bad.

But he does save random people's instagram posts if they're photogenic enough to be 'art worthy', and he doesn't think that's a normal thing to do, so he believes that his passion for art certainly manipulates him into being a different person sometimes.

Which is why, right now, staring down at his phone that flashes a photo of a blonde girl wearing a red swimsuit as she looks up the sky, he scratches at his head; because he isn't supposed to be drawing, he's supposed to be doing his homework.

His homework that he's been pushing aside for almost a week.

And he only got lucky, because the deadline was a few days ago, but a class suspension was announced in favor of protecting students from an oncoming strike.

He's just testing to see how far his luck takes him.

And he hopes it helps him survive his classes tomorrow, because he's not planning on sleeping tonight.

The clock reads 2:43am, and his brain is so, so awake. The dim light of his desk lamp doesn't help in making him feel drowsy, if anything, it makes him feel more alert.

He doesn't feel any weight pulling on his eyes, and his brain is going crazy on thinking up how to add detail to his sketch, and his hands are slowly shading the girl's face with light, diagonal strokes.

He keeps doing this, scribbling his ball point pen left and right until he's satisfied with what he sees, and when he looks up, the clock has 3:59am displayed loudly.

He doesn't even panic.

All he does is put away his sketch-book and lock his phone, before turning off his lamp and maneuvering himself towards his bed, where he lays down and stares at his ceiling.

'when are you gonna do your homework?' his brain berrates him.

'when you leave me alone.'

It should be concerning, how he resorts to arguing with himself in the wee hours of the night (morning, actually), but he can't exactly walk up to his mom at this hour and say 'Hey, I can't sleep. Can you make me some chamomile tea and keep me company until I do?', because even though most of his friends think otherwise, his relationship with his mom isn't the best (and he doesn't like chamomile tea, anyway. No matter how calming it may be.).

So, he supposes this is okay; staring at the ceiling and contemplating about his life choices until he gets knocked out.

He falls asleep at around 4:50am. After thinking about how he neglects his responsibilities for the nth time.

-

Minghao has his head tilting to the right, nestled on one hand, his long bangs covering half of his face as he dozes off in his introductory philosophy class.