𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑⁰¹ʰᵉᵐᵐⁱⁿᵍˢ✓

³²faint is the consciousness of the stubborn

clementine

It's really hard to work on a painting when your mind is on someone, especially if that someone is currently one of the faces you're going to be painting.

Two weeks have passed since my and Luke's last conversation. Since then, I've done the most predictable thing I could do: throw myself into my work. The sooner I can finish their painting, the sooner I can stop thinking about him.

On the first week, I listened to the band's songs again and again, well into their third album. I was surprised to find how different the sound was, yet it was still, evidently, them. It was a different style, a different sound, different lyrics, yet it could only ever be from them.

On other news, Ashton apparently mentioned Reonide in one of the band's interviews, and since then, Reonide's been getting some attention. They've been booked for five months into the future, all for shows, interviews, and promoting their upcoming single.

"Please go home tonight," Annie's voice echoes throughout the spaces of the studio.

I turn towards her figure leaning against the door.

"You've been doing too many all-nighters, you do need to rest." She crosses her arms and furrows her brows. "I know you stay here until three and come back at seven. That's not nearly enough sleep,"

I sigh. "Annie, can you please let me be? I'm just trying to work so I can get this piece done," I reply, a sheet of a cold tone on my voice.

"Clementine, I care that people here aren't overworking themselves, and you're doing just that." She tells me, making her voice louder than mine. "I don't know what happened with you two weeks ago but you're letting it affect your job,"

I scoff. "It's not affecting my job! My job is to paint. I do that more now that I'm doing this, there's no problem," I snap back, anger brewing in me. I don't know if it's Annie causing it or my lack of sleep.

"It will affect you when you paint something wrong because of these all-nighters! Go home before you make the mistake!"

"Oh fuck off! You do the same shit!" I shout back stomping my foot like an angry child.

I've silenced her.

I know I've crossed a line, but it seems that my fatigue has done every sense of mine injustice.

She stares at me angrily, her nostrils flared and her brows furrowed as she grips her hands into hot fists. "I stay up nights for a piece because I need to finish it quick. You stay up nights for a piece because you have a problem you can't face." She says very calmly, deadpanning. "There's a difference."

She quickly turns around and walks out of my sight until all I hear are hear footsteps making their way to her own studio before closing the doors.

I look back at the painting, her last words echoing on my mind. She's not right, I tell myself. She's wrong.

I continue to paint, lightly adding the skin tone colours and making sure they're blended out perfectly. I can smell the stench of the fumes, rich with whatever chemicals that aren't safe for breathing in. But I continue, putting my energy onto each little detail of the face I'm painting: Ashton.

I'd finished Calum's face earlier in the day and now I'm just going onto Ashton's.

I dread to start on Luke's face, knowing I'd have to stare at it for hours at length.

I stifle back a yawn and continue to add on the colours and blend. I ignore the pulsating headache in the back of my head, having had it for two days now.

There's a certain point when I'm working that I just don't care about the headaches, the fumes, and the lack of sleep. This is that point.

I've only ever reached that point twice before and I can't say if they were any better situations.

The first time was when I was two months into working in Ackerman's and I was assigned my first three by three piece. Thinking that I had to finish it in quickly, I spent four whole nights in the studio.

When Helene found out, she sent me home, saying that for each piece I'm assigned, I'm given three months to finish it, no matter how small or big.

Needless to say, I felt pretty stupid thinking that way.

The second time was when I realised Aiden wouldn't come to the studio.

When we were going through a rocky part in our relationship - or rather, the rockier part, as our whole relationship was rocky - I spent a whole week inside finishing and starting pieces as a plan to avoid Aiden and his argumentative ways.

Now that it's happening once again, I can't help but feel disappointed at myself. My non-confrontational ways overpower what I should be doing, which leads me to overwork and abuse the studio.

Am I that much of a pussy?

I put my brush down and sigh, my vision growing hazy as my headache drums.

Annie is right. Annie is right. Annie is right. The thought whirls in my head like a mantra, again and again. She's right, I should go.

My skin prickles at the odd feeling of a new kind of exhaustion, a warm, dry kind of exhaustion that has my mouth rough and devoid of any saliva.

Something rings in my ear and I wince at the growing sound, increasing every second, sharp and almost unbearable.

I rub my eyes and stand up. My limbs feel like noodles, unable to carry the weight of my body. The world around me tilts, gravity pulling my frail frame down to the floor with a thud.

I feel my knees and palms hit the floor upon impact, closing my eyes as my mind becomes clouded with sleep.

My headache pulsates, hurting even more than a minute ago.

What's happening? I sit on the floor, prying my eyes open though all I see is the paint-stained floor with black stars peppered across my sight.

"Annie?" I groan, calling out for the only person I know who'd be here. "Annie!" I shout louder, hearing my heart slowly drum, so slowly, too slowly, as if it's taking its time.

I hear footsteps, louder than they're supposed to be. But before I know it, the next time I close my eyes, sleep swallows me and keeps me under its arms.

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so how was yalls day 😊