𝐏𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧' 𝐆𝐮𝐲 ➺ 𝐵𝓇𝒾𝒶𝓃 𝑀𝒶𝓎 & 𝒬𝓊𝑒𝑒𝓃

23. The Bigger, the Better

I struggled to focus on Professor Ross's lecture, his words flowing out of his mouth in a rapid stream that I couldn't seem to comprehend. It was just a monotonous drone, a meaningless murmur that failed to form coherent sentences in my mind. I highly doubted that anything he was saying would be of any real use to me as we were supposed to be reviewing past notes and lectures in preparation for the upcoming exams after the Christmas break. I had always relied on revising in the comfort of my own flat, assuring myself that I would dedicate ample time to studying. However, this time, my flat wouldn't serve as the sanctuary for my studies.

My earliest memories of studying at home dated back to my A Levels in college, a few years before I even started university at Imperial. I managed to achieve decent grades in my A Levels, but the whole revision process was pure torture. I'm sure many of you have heard the spiel from your loved ones about how "hard work pays off" and all that jazz. But when the hard work feels forced upon you, it doesn't yield the desired results. The joy of learning was stripped away from me when I was eighteen, the year I completed college. My dad meticulously crafted a revision schedule for me, and my mum was tasked with ensuring that I stuck to it. I remember feeling suffocated within the confines of my own home, staying at the college for hours on end and catching the latest train possible back to my town. It felt like I was back in high school, living under strict regulations and rules. I didn't want to return to that restrictive environment for my university degree.

Yet, there I was, sitting next to Emma, my body slumped over the desk, my chin resting in the palm of my hand, and my elbow propped up on the hard wooden surface. I absentmindedly traced the end of my pen across my lips, a futile attempt at finding some semblance of relaxation. But it did nothing to ease my mounting frustration. I glanced briefly at my notes, only to be confronted with a jumble of unfamiliar symbols and concepts. Meanwhile, I could hear the faint scratching sound of Emma's pen as she hurriedly transcribed notes she had yet to write down, her busy schedule leaving little time for academic pursuits. By "busy schedule," I meant her vigorous rendezvous with Sinclair Road, where she found solace in the arms of her lover—sometimes at the flat, depending on her mood.

A familiar accent broke through my thoughts, drawing my attention to the left. It was Cameron, asking if I was okay, and his concerned expression was exactly what I needed to snap out of my trance. I turned my head to face him, letting out a sigh. I had confided in Cameron about my situation while we were waiting for Professor Ross to arrive, but he found it difficult to comprehend, given his seemingly perfect life. Not that I was bitter or anything, but the idea of having a stable relationship with parents and a relatively peaceful home life was completely foreign to me.

"Not really," I admitted, the weight of my emotions spilling out. "But I'll be okay. It's only two weeks," I reassured myself, repeating Brian's words like a mantra.

The remainder of the lecture seemed to drag on forever, everything still shrouded in uncertainty and foreboding. I couldn't help but dwell on the countless what-ifs and the potential outcomes of my brief trip up North. Trust me, my mum and dad could be merciless.

After the lecture finally ended, I found myself wandering aimlessly, feeling alone. Emma had chosen to go see Roger instead of joining me for our customary Thursday study session. I didn't really have any other friends, and I knew Brian was diligently working on his PhD thesis, so I didn't want to disturb him. Besides, I doubted I was even allowed in the lab while students were busy. So, I resorted to my last option—Freddie.

I knew the design students would be in the studios, so I headed in that direction. Although Freddie rarely attended, given he wasn't really a proper student, there was no harm in trying to find him. I had nothing else to do, after all. As I wandered through the corridors, my eyes glazed over the vibrant collages adorning the walls. It all looked so invigorating. I paused in front of a display showcasing Imperial's annual fashion show from the previous June. I couldn't help but scold myself for choosing such a complex and often underestimated subject of study. Sure, the fashion industry offered lucrative opportunities and the chance to encounter a fascinating array of individuals, but fashion and art felt like a realm of self-expression. Each look on the runway, captured in the photographs, provided a glimpse into the designer's soul. It was an extravagant experience, the campest thing I had ever laid eyes on.