Painting and Shit Like That [Open]

I rolled my eyes. What a sarcastic little shit... Sarcasm could be fun sometimes, but not when it was directed toward me. So I scoffed under my breath, shaking me head.

"You're in the class and being a really shitty sport about it," I said, shrugging. "I mean, I don't wanna do this dumb shit either, but at least I'm sitting at the damn table." Painting was pretty much below me, but at least I'd finished the project. The nurse cleared her throat and gave me a stern look as I continued talking but I cleared my throat right back at her, brow quirked.

At least the guy beside me wasn't being an asshole. He seemed pretty nice, so that was a plus. I guess.

Wasn't there supposed to be more things to do? Who even knew anymore.

Die sat there, feeling somehow trapped between the two men despite not really sitting between them at all. He sort of hunched over his paper, attempting to use the corner of a paper towel to make some patterns by blotting up some of the color. It seemed not to work at all, but Die didn't really care right then. It distracted him from the exchange between the two and he didn't want to even remotely be blamed for being in the midst of such a thing for a second time.

Finally, the nurse came around and removed the dirty water, replacing it with fresh and then passing out new papers. She set out a few random objects on the table in the middle of them and instructed them to try to paint them if they would like... or else free-form whatever again. Die could only assume it was in some attempt to not bother anyone with direct commands.

He took his paper and shifted slightly away from Hongbin, though he made it seem like he was just readjusting himself in his chair, as though his butt hurt or something. He glanced at the table and chose his object, starting in on it after dipping his brush and getting some brown paint on his brush.

I swear. I caught that bitter eye roll cast in my direction and simply quirked a single brow skywards, just waiting to hear what he had to say to me now. And even after he tried to bicker, I simply shrugged, giving the other man a cold stare as if – again - the answer was clear as fucking daylight.

“Then don’t.”

What a goddamn puss. It wasn't like they were tying him down and forcing him to paint. I pursed bejeweled tiers tightly together just waiting to see what he had to say back to that, but it wasn’t like I really gave two shits. Instead I went right back to dropping my own attention, from across the room, and resumed splashing pointless dribbles of black watercolor across my paper. Dark eyes did flit upwards if only briefly to catch the way Die shifted away from his current table buddy and I snerked in bitter amusement. Kid’s going to have to toughen up if he’s going to be active in a metal institution.

People are unstable.

I quirked a brow, arms crossed as I scoffed under my breath and looked at the items that the nurse had set out. Oh, so now they were making us do still-life? Come to think of it, why were they making us do this again? I picked up a brush absently, shrugging.

"They're forcin' me to take the class," I said, still looking at the brush. I glanced up again at the random objects she'd placed out and narrowed my eyes slightly. What to do...?

I was calming down, though. I actually started to doodle one of the pieces she'd set down, head resting in one hand and propped up on the table. I fell silent as I watched my hand, deciding to ignore the man in the corner for now.

He was irritating anyway.

Die chose the book and empty plastic vase to do his watercolor drawing of. He found that still-life was hard when trying to use paints and he quickly grew frustrated with how much things bled. It looked nothing like the book he was trying to draw and the brown in particular was sort of horribly dark on his page and would be clearly unable to actually put the title in correctly afterwards.

He sighed and washed out his brush, dipping it in the purple for the stupid vase and then haphazardly putting that on the page as well, already giving up on how the final result would look. This was terrible... no more still-lifes for Die after this, that was for damn fucking sure.

Neva had been cooped up in this building for over a month without ever meeting a soul outside the intake doctors and nursing staff. She would have preferred it to stay that way but getting better meant more interaction and participation. A pretty blond nurse twisted the handle and opened the classroom door, ushering her forward. Neva's thin fingers grasped at the woolen throw wrapped around her shoulders. She wasn't particularly cold, but the blanket acted like a sort of shield; a security device that was of the utmost importance.

The same blonde pulled out a wooden chair from the table and gestured her to sit, which was done with a good amount of hesitation. Dark eyes darted around the room, seeing but never quite making contact, as supplies were deposited within reach. Lucky for her the persons at her table were already paired together, leaving her alone; unless blondie were to gather one of the few other spares she spied dallying about.

Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, she snatched a green paintbrush whose bristles poked out in every which direction and were stained a disgusting shade of vomit yellow. Said paintbrush was quickly replaced with a red handled flat that seemed to have had better care and less putridness drawn with it. The pad of her thumb rubbed through the fibers as she lowered her head, stealing quick looks about the room through the black curtain of her hair.

Dark hues flickered upwards only briefly to notice the items that had been set out to paint as subjects. What, no real-life models? What a dam shame.

Not that I’ve got any sort of artistic talent to begin with.

Letting my orbs return to the page before me I simply scribbled messily, as if I was trying to make some sort of visible shape out of the black, runny paint. Ugh. Who the fuck thought watercolor was a good idea.
Maybe I could paint my uniform and have a splash of personality around here.

I chose to say nothing about the kid being ‘forced’… ah yes, you look ever so painfully bound to your seat. Instead I simply gave a tiny shake of my head and a bemused snerk, minding my own business. He should do the same… I guess we finally were on the same mental track with one another. Die was also quiet, I guess the guy didn’t like confrontation very much… the room was almost eerily silent finally, only the sound of bristles brushing wetly against paper.

And then the door opened again. I couldn’t help my ever curious eyes from lifting, checking out the new addition to our little pow-wow. And, quite frankly, I was surprised to see a woman. I swear Acropolis is mostly a sausage fest. I stared at her for a moment with no regard to manners, taking in her hushed, almost… frail appearance as she was led to a chair. Heh. I’m still the only asshole over here not being a good sport. Whatever. I remained silent though. The goddamn pills I'm on killed my fuse.

It had taken quite a bit to get Wonsik to chill out enough to, well, go away, but now that I had relaxed I was going back to painting. I was focused on the book and was about to ask Die how he managed to make the right color when the door opened and I looked up.

Wow, a woman? It seemed like a new occurrence to see a woman thrown into the mix, considering the room was just chock full of men. But still, the surprise didn't last long as she was ushered to the table and sat down nearby. She seemed kind of frail, off, out of it... Maybe she'd been having as much trouble sleeping as I'd been having.

Leaning over, I furrowed my brows.

"... Are you okay?" I asked softly, looking through my brush selection and handing her a brush that was in better shape. "Do you need anything?" I added, cocking my head.

Die finished up the item he'd been working on and glanced to his side when he got the impression that perhaps he was needed for whatever reason. But he wasn't, as it turned out, and he just shook his head slightly, looking back at his paper... and then glancing at Kyo again. How had he been since the fight? Okay, he hoped... if only because Die hoped everyone in here would eventually be okay again, himself included.

He washed off his brush and set it down, massaging his hand from the cramp he'd developed holding the brush too tightly. Some things were such a pain in the ass, he had to admit. And muscles cramping up was definitely one of them.

He eyed the newcomer for a very short period of time, looking away again before he was discovered... or so he hoped.

She'd been expecting the several sets of eyes that turned their attention to her. She was obviously late in arriving. What she wasn't expecting was the several sets of male eyes that turned towards her. Asian male eyes. The revelation was that this gathering was simply too weird to not be suspicious. Neva felt as if she were watching the scene unfold from outside her body like a movie. She was a lamb dropped in among the wolves. The very same wolves she had been doing her best to outrun and outmaneuver for the last six weeks. The very same wolves that had taken Anthony and Logan. These bastards were everywhere.

Her insides screamed for her to run away regardless of the fact that there was no place to run to, her outsides never faltered in the facade of being just another crazy taking up space. Hidden beneath her blanket was the tension of a hundred muscles waiting to spring into action the moment any one of these fools made their move.

Neva couldn't hide the jump that occurred when one of the others spoke to her. The look she returned was one of incredulousness. "Ah, yeah. Um, thank you…" Her voice was soft and quiet. It suited her. She left the other there moments longer before she decided he really was just offering her the paintbrush and had no intentions of stabbing her with it. Her fingertips were quite nimble in retrieving the object without coming into contact with him, but she gave a tight lipped grin in exchange.

Regarding the newly acquired brush, she dipped it into a glass of water before loading it with a bright red hue. She eyeballed the still life set up and threw the bristles onto a blank white page, her thoughts a million miles away.

From the back of the room, all by my lonesome, I watched as the girl was huddled to her seat, and immediately that kid was on her like white on rice. Hahahah. I could only smirk and offer a subtle shake of my head, dropping my dark gaze back to the sloppy paper before me. Man, do I hope this is the only stupid ass class I need to come to. I only did it because Die asked me too and I felt sort of sorry for the soft spoken guy. It wasn’t like my own doctor’s required me attend or anything.

A slow blink was offered as all seemed to return to normal, myself scrawling away pointlessly. I wasn’t even really trying. Slop this paint here, run the water there… all in black, fuck color. I didn’t even have a set goal in mind, an image I was trying to recreate. I was much too far away to be able to actually see the items set out for still life.

After a long, drawn out moment of silence and mental zoning I realized that my hand hadn’t moved, and my ‘painting’ wasn’t getting anywhere. Re-focusing again I just stared.

… … …

Nope, I fucking suck at this.

Pushing from the chair I picked up the piece of paper, hazardly tossing my brush into the cup of water at my feet with a plunk of a dark splash. The nurse on duty shot me a concerned glance as I stood to my feet, holding up the pathetic painting in a false show of proudness and an equally sarcastic grin crawling across my facade.

“Can I hang my picture on the fridge now?”

I blinked at her voice, noticing the quietness and the small grin but saying not much of anything. She seemed very weak, and very timid, almost similar to myself in a way. I attempted a dimpled smile back though I ended up looking down and going back to my painting instead of answering verbally, a little bow of my head apparent to let her know that I heard her.

I turned to Die then, noticing him massaging his hand and frowning slightly. Muscle cramps - those were the worst. I watched for a moment before idly reaching out a hand to him, blinking and still looking at his hand.

"You want me to help?" I asked, clearly referring to his hand as I glanced up at the other man. My attention was pulled, however, by a declaration from the corner, the man standing and proudly showing off his... whatever it was. I bit my lip, raising a brow as the nurse walked over.

Clearly he had about as much patience as most other people seemed to have.

Die noted the way the girl seemed... nearly frightened, in his opinion. He made a point of not looking back at her again, not wanting to add to whatever condition she may have. And keeping to himself seemed best somehow. So far he'd made acquaintance with two people that may or may not have liked him at all, another who hadn't even exchanged words with him, and another who obviously thought of all Asian people in very racist terms.

He used the towel to blot a bit more and then carefully sat things aside, glancing at Hongbin when he offered to help with his hand. "Nah... not that bad," he murmured softly. More that his hands were somewhat precious to the few things he had left in life that he could do and letting anyone who wasn't a doctor near them for purposes beyond shaking seemed like a relatively bad plan.

He looked over at Kyo and his drawing, a tiny smirk pulling at his lips. He'd expected nothing less. He pushed his own forward and offered a quiet, "I'm done as well."

The book and other similar objects strewn about the table top seemed a poor excuse for still life if Neva had any say in it. Whoever thought of the arrangement definitely didn't have the eye for it. Then again, there hardly seemed any reason to put thought into anything in this place. The rooms were bare, the food was bland, the nursing staff resembled cookie cutter zombies; each reproducing the same rehearsed lines about treatments and the (im)possibility of recovery.

She couldn't say the same for her peers, however, for she hadn't met a single one. Well, unless you count the bumbling pleasantries that had been exchanged with a lanky Asian just moments ago. To be honest, she wasn't sure if she was going to be met with a bunch of raving, out of control lunatics or a group so strung out they wouldn't be able to tell their heads from a hole in the wall. So far her brief glances were painting a picture of normalcy that she hadn't expected. Nobody was screaming, nobody was rocking violently while talking to themselves, nobody was drooling in stupor, nobody was heaped unceremoniously on the floor in a puddle of urine. Nope, just a room full of complacent Asian men taking art classes.

Absolutely nothing unnatural about that.

She eavesdropped on the all-to-normal conversation between the lanky boy and the red-headed boy. Conversation might have been too strong a word. Their chastely mumbled words left her completely uninterested.

The reserved flow of the room broke when a pierced boy spoke up, apparently causing all the antelope on the plain to perk up and strain their ears in his direction. Whether they were afraid of the lone boy across the room or regarded him as the Lion King, she couldn't quite say. But it'd be a funny scene if she weren't part of it as well. Sitting up a bit for a better view she pushed her hair behind her ears, a ghost of a smile gracing her face. That cynical outpouring of words sounded so much like Anthony, she couldn't help it.

She couldn't look for too long or else someone would notice, so she turned her head back to her own project, releasing the curtain her hair to hide a wide smile burdened with soundless laughter.

My gaze followed the nurse as she headed over in my direction, already babbling some sort of nonsensical crap about how the class wasn’t over yet. How I should ‘play nice with the others’ and go draw with my goddam crayons in the happy conglomerated powwow in the center of the room. I didn’t care. Already tuning her out, my attention wavered, knowing that all eyes were on me. The unfamiliar patients, the nurses, and the very small select few that I’d had the pleasure of running in to here or there. I blinked slowly, not enjoying being scrutinized by the multiple pairs of eyes despite my very obvious, obnoxious outburst.

I shifted where I stood, paying just enough attention to notice that the lone female patient had… cracked the faintest of smiles. I couldn’t help it myself, one corner of bejeweled tiers perked in the tiniest hint of an amused smirk in return. Ah, so maybe she wasn’t completely batshit insane. Not that I’d really run into many of the aforementioned, expected patients. It was almost disgustingly stereotypical. Her gaze didn’t last long though and for her sake – and everyone else in the room I suppose, since I am such riveting company – I flipped my lame excuse for a painting up at the nurse mid-sentence, letting the thing miss her flabbergasted hands and flutter soundlessly to the floor. “Present.” I mumbled, bending down to actually pick up the cup of water and used paintbrush. Like a good patient I made my way wordlessly over to the sinks, and without waiting for direction or complaint, I creaked the faucet on, and began washing my things.

I clearly was done here.

I actually smiled a bit when the lady did, though my attentions turned back to Die when he said no to my offer. It didn't really bother me - I probably wouldn't have trusted me either, if I'd run into myself in this place.

"Sure."

When the man in the corner tossed his painting at the nurse I raised both brows, eyes widening slightly. At least he was cleaning his brushes and the cup, but had he really needed to do that?

He was probably just kind of an asshole.

At Die's little exhalation of an answer, though, I grinned, looking at his painting and nodding. His looked much better than mine did, and I wasn't exactly proud of it. But in any case it was done. So I nodded at the nurse, sliding my paper away from me.

"I'm done, too," I said, tone soft once more as I looked up at the nurse.

Die sort of flicked his glance between all the things happening in the room. Some part of him was intrigued, the other part was skittish, not wanting to get in trouble for something he wasn't doing. But he supposed that was how life here was.

He settled a bit and quietly blotted the water out of his paints, using some paper towel to clean up around them as well so the white tray was pristine afterward. When Hongbin said he was done, Die slid his tray over and started to clean it up as well, slightly anal about such things.

Neva watched as one by one the boys announced their completion with high hopes of ducking from the room. Apparently she had come even later to the party than she had assumed. Not that it mattered, she wasn't really here of her own accord and should her company leave, well, that just meant fewer piercing eyes turned her way.

She kept with a palate of warm colors for her painting. Oranges, yellows and reds; they were her favorites. She wasn't ignorant to themes and theories of artwork but she was rather inept when it came to the task of actually drawing. Her subject matter melted on the page reminiscent of Salvador Dali. Okay, Salvador Dali after a cocaine trip perhaps and she made a face at her own work. Anthony would have been teasing her straight to the dog house over it and she'd probably end up hurling a barrage of utensils at his smirking face.

Out of the corner of her eye she kept tabs on the placement of the boys. At the very least they all seemed as wary of each other as she was of them and that was an odd thought given how she'd assumed they were in cahoots. Suddenly she was scanning the corners of the room for cameras, she must have been too distracted to take notice of them before. Sure enough, there they were. Who needed a small crowd of suspicious Asians to watch her when there was perfectly good technology?

Neva slumped down in her chair, cautiously pulling the blanket closer around her thin frame and feigning interest in her social time. She should hurry. She wouldn't want to be left alone in this room.

I think ‘kind of an asshole’ was probably a huge understatement. I already know I’m a huge asshole. Whatever. I wasn’t exactly here to make friends. In and out, that was what I was hoping for. As the days dragged on though I find that hope starting to dwindle.

It looks like I started a trend though, and the thought made me shake my head with a bemused sort of smirk dancing across pierced tiers. ‘Follow the leader’ I guess. Even though this little class of theirs was far from over. I just popped in, did my thing, and I was done. I didn’t need to bond with anybody or keep on pressing my lack of artistic talent, no thank you. I didn’t see to care much as the other two followed in my footsteps, instead after stacking my supplies and dropping paintbrushes into the plastic cup I pushed past the others, heading for the door. None of the nurses seemed to want to care enough to stop me either, clearly I must have rustled their jimmies and broken the tranquil environment and they would be glad to see me gone.

If anyone looked my way however I did manage one of my usual one-sided smirks as a silent bid of farewell so that I at least didn’t come off as a huge dickbag. Only a mediocre one. Dark chocolate eyes did linger for half a moment longer on the newly entered female too, but my thoughts were kept to myself as I slipped out.

Interesting.

I glanced over at the man from the corner as he slipped out, shaking my head at him and sighing. Though I shot an odd glance toward the woman that had walked in, almost curious as to why she was silent, my attentions were almost immediately pulled by Die cleaning up my paints.

"Oh, you don't have to..." I started, almost stuttering over my words. I bit my lip, looking down and shaking my head.

Why had I even thought to question the quietness of this new woman when I had trouble speaking myself?

"Really, I can..." I started, though my voice trailed off as a nurse walked close to us. Instead I glanced up, cocking my head at her and quirking one brow. She was staring at me like I was being too loud and I nodded in silence, immediately quieting and going back to straightening up.

Die glanced at the other when he said he could clean his own tray. He murmured softly, "It's okay. I just wanted to help you out." If he really wanted him to stop though, he would, his hand hovering - paused - over the other's paint tray.

He pursed his lips a bit and settled back, tilting his head as he waited for a response.

[Forum stopped giving me email replies for some reason, sorry guys! I was like... why on earth do I not have a reply yet and came to check. :/]

I blinked, looking up at Die and smiling brightly a moment later before looking back down at the supplies. I nodded in response, pushing hair off my face as I glanced around.

I had a feeling that something had happened, considering everyone seemed to be acting differently around me. Sighing softly, I fidgeted with my shirt a bit.

"Sorry, it's fine. I just don't want to be a trouble," I replied, still smiling though it was a bit weaker.

Endlessly black eyes watched the Lion King exit, drinking in the cocky smirk. Did he know something she didn't? When the door closed with one less body left in the room she swallowed hard, growing more uncomfortable by the minute. Abandoning her shitty painting she took a few silent moments to check in on the odd couple insistently and awkwardly apologizing to each other. The pair were difficult to read. They were completely unlike what she suspected mental patients to look and act like and it threw her off, left her unable to place them in the grand scheme of things.

Neva readjusted her blanket shawl and stood up, vacating her area without explanation. She was supposed to wait until the class was over, until a chaperone came to take her back to her room, but she couldn't. She couldn't be left alone here. With the nurses still flustered over the sudden upset in class dynamics she quietly made her way to the door, fervently appealing whatever god or deity that was listening to let her slip out unseen.

"No trouble," Die responded equally as quietly, dabbing at the tray and cleaning it up until it was all bright plastic and individual colors. Much better, in his opinion. He carefully finished up and then pushed the tray back over to Hongbin, making sure he had everything nice and cleaned up in the end.

He settled once again, glancing back at his book and wondering if he could go back to reading and not be rude. After all, Kyo was no longer in the comfortable chair he'd been occupying before the other came in.