i.
Harry hasn't slept for over twenty-four hours.
This was not his intent though, not in the slightest! He'd woken up yesterday morning around half past six from an excruciatingly realistic nightmare of a specific ravenous, grizzly maw retaining creature that's plagued his dreams since he was ten and couldn't find his way back to sleep. So he got ready for the day, showered the sleep from his bones in hot steaming pellets of water, got dressed, and messed about on his computer for a little while with his kitten nestled in his lap until it was time to go to is 9AM lecture. He went about his day as normal from then on, going to class, sitting in a shadowy bit of the quad to eat his lunch while the autumn air still wasn't harsh enough to draw him indoors, met with Alexa so that Liam could give him a brief update of the party life he was missing, and then they both met up with Adam who is two years his and Liam's senior and ruffles their hair and recommends them books to read like the proper English major (with a double major in law). After his classes were over he retired to his flat, fed Bubbles (his kitten, who loves crawling around on the sink while he's washing dishes and bats at the soap bubbles that float into the air), realized that he had about twenty separate commissions to do (he creates art for people who can't do art themselves and while he wishes he could do this for free, he shares his talents at a price) and then promptly got to work.
He'd not realized just how long he'd been up until the sun filtered through his window in a gentle gleam across his coffee table and Bubbles was nudging at his palm for her brekkie. After five cups of coffee (premium roast, at it's finest – Adam got him turned onto it) he guesses one might lose the time, all jitters, finishing up his last piece with just enough time to shower again, redress, and show up for his art studio course. Was fine until about five minutes in, then he realized just how fucking exhausted he was and how fiercely his eyes wanted to weld themselves shut.
He thinks he might look like proper ass but he can't find it in himself to care all too much. Not when his hand is the only thing keeping him from face-planting into the table, and he startles himself back into full consciousness with a soft little snort and attempting to suck threatening drool back into his mouth. It's not like he was a wuss or anything, he'd pulled his fair share of all-nighters, but the crash from the coffee hit him hard and he's surprised he's able to even scramble together a coherent response when the bloke beside him asks if he's got a piece of gum.
So it's safe to say that he'd been blocking most of what the professor was saying out, until a certain sentence drug him right from the depths of whatever exhaustion filled despair he had thrown himself into.
"Let's discuss your final."
Harry doesn't think that it would've had every goosebump pimple up his skin had it not been that it was the beginning of October. That's two solid months before anybody even really gives the thought of finals the time of day, and she's bringing it up now, which means that it's going to be a fucking doozy he's sure of it. He's not the only one either – everyone seems to lean in close, nerves rattling the room like loose change in a car's cupholder, the drowsiness that Harry had once been feeling, now swept away in a tide of panicked emotions waving through him. He thinks, if he listens closely enough, he can hear the boy's heart thumping against his chest right beside him.
"I'm warning you what it is now, in case any of you would like to drop. It is forty percent of your final grade, so its best to be meticulous in your planning and fluid within your work," she begins, the keyboard clicking beneath her fingers as she pulls the Word Doc up on the projector, seeming as casual as ever – as if she hadn't just planted the seed of worry into two dozen art majors, "It'll be a series. You will come up with the theme of your choice as long as all the pieces tie into it. There will be a total of five; the medium is of your choice along with the color pallet. Something that might help you is if you write up a statement on these pieces – you won't be turning them in, but this might help guide you." Harry's shoulders soothe some. That was all? He'd expected much worse if he's – "The catch is, this series will be based off a singular person. I have selected an assortment of people of all different shapes, sizes, skin tones, etcetera."
