Adrien's POV

It was surreal to me how this was my final year of art school. To me, it was only yesterday that I was in high school, doubting my dreams of going to art school and feeling as though my creations were inferior—that a career in the art industry was nothing but a fairytale.

But now, here I was. A senior art student, on the brink of graduating with a Bachelor's in Fine Arts. I wished I could go back to seventeen-year-old me and tell him that everything would be alright. That his art was worth it—that his dreams were not just an unobtainable fairytale. I had come a long way, learned a lot, cried a lot, smiled a lot, and poured my blood, sweat and tears into every piece of work.

But it wasn't the anatomy lessons or the countless all-nighters to finish projects that made art school worthwhile to me. It was the close friendships I made with other artists, and the connections I established with my teachers and others in the art industry that made this experience worthwhile.

They were the ones who helped me grow as a person, the ones who turned me into the artist that I was now—someone who was radiant and confident in the work I have created and could create.

Someone who knew what they wanted out of their life.

I arrived at my advanced drawing class thirty minutes early. The classroom was silent, vacant of other students, and I spent those minutes sitting at one of the tables in the centre of the classroom doodling in my personal sketchbook. I had two sketchbooks that I carried with me, one specifically for my drawing classes, and one that was personal, for my eyes only.

It was something that helped me stay grounded most days, having a personal sketchbook where I could just draw whatever I felt like, for no one else's gaze but my own.

"Hey, you." A voice called out. A yawn left my lips, and when I glanced up mid-doodle and pulled one of my earbuds out, Luka stood in front of me with a warm smile on his face, his bag shrugged over his shoulder.

Other students started pouring into the classroom, filling up all the tables. I flashed Luka a soft smile in return, watching as he sat down on the empty stool next to me, pulling out his pencils, sketchbook and notebook.

"Hey, Luka," I greeted, pausing my music on my phone. I took out my other earbud and put them into my bag. Another yawn forced its way out, and I quickly covered my mouth with my hand.

"Rough night? Or did Preston keep you up?" Luka leaned towards me, lips tugging upwards into a curious smirk. I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

"Oh, shut up." I playfully shoved him back. Luka chuckled. "Honestly? More like rough week. I can't stop sleeping. I want to fall asleep as we speak. It's taking everything in me not to close my eyes and hit my head against the table."

The smirk fell from Luka's lips, replaced with a concerned frown. "Is something going on?"

"No, everything's fine. Great, even. I'm just...exhausted." I brushed my fingers through my hair with a sigh. Luka hummed.

"If you need to go home, I'll happily take notes for you. Though...I'm not sure how I feel about you driving home while you're tired." Luka said. He rested his hand on my back, rubbing soothing circles along my spine.

"I'll be okay. I'd rather not miss class if I can help it." I smiled reassuringly at him. Luka hummed in response.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure." I nodded. "But...Maybe we could get lunch after? Some food would give me a boost in energy, surely. Maybe some coffee too."

Luka perched his elbow on the table and rested his chin in his hand, smiling amusedly. "You want to have lunch with little ole me? I'm flattered."

"Don't make me change my mind."

Luka smiled wider. "Yeah, we can get lunch after."

"Perfect! Because I reallllllllly want some lasagna from the dining hall." I clapped my hands together and grinned. Luka burst out laughing.

The conversation quieted down between us when our instructor walked in and got started with the lecture. I put away my personal sketchbook and focused on the lecture, jotting down bullet notes in my notebook to the best of my ability. But as the lecture went on, the harder it became for me to remain focused.

I couldn't keep my eyes open. My eyelids weighed the amount of two large paint cans—I had to squint and rub my eyes occasionally just to keep them open, but the effort was in vain. And when I briefly checked the time on my phone and saw it was only 12:30 in the afternoon, I internally groaned. It was an hour into the lecture and I didn't know if I going to be able to last the entire three hours.

I leaned my head against Luka's shoulder. He didn't seem to mind and remained heavily focused on the lecture, silently writing in his notebook while his gaze flickered between the instructor and his notes. I released a heavy breath and closed my eyes, still listening in on the lecture.

But my attention towards the lecture didn't last much longer. A sudden uneasiness pooled in my stomach, spiking my heart rate. I exhaled another heavy breath and forced my eyes open, sliding my hand down to grip my stomach.

I jerked my head from Luka's shoulder, biting hard into my lower lip—I was overwhelmed by an intense urge to throw up, like someone had punched me in the stomach and it took all of my willpower to keep the bile down. My abrupt movements caught Luka's attention, and he looked at me with concern.

"Are you okay? You look pale." Luka furrowed his brows at me. I quickly shook my head.

"I-I don't feel good..." I whispered shakily. I choked on the bile as it crept further up my throat. Before Luka could respond, I jumped out of my seat, leaving all my things behind at our table as I hurried out of the classroom.

I rushed down the vacant hallway. Quick footsteps echoed behind me, but I ignored them as I reached the closest queen's bathroom, and hurried over to one of the empty stalls. The moment I reached the closest stall, I collapsed to my knees on the tiled floor and retched into the toilet, throwing up all of my breakfast.

A comforting hand slid against my back—I would have flinched if it weren't for the familiar scent of Luka's lavender cologne lulling my nose as he knelt behind me. He rubbed my back, tracing slow, soothing circles as my insides lurched violently, and I continued to dry heave and expel my stomach contents until I was throwing up nothing but stomach acid.

It hurt so much—I could barely catch my breath. The vomiting lasted so long it felt like it would stretch on for eternity, a never-ending cycle of my stomach muscles twisting, tears burning my eyes, my jaw throbbing.

But then it finally stopped. I inhaled a much needed gasp of air and pushed myself away from the toilet, tearing my gaze away from the horrid mess. I was left trembling, and with a bitter tang in my mouth that I couldn't get rid of.

Luka slid his hand up to run his fingers through my hair, the soothing gesture relaxing me ever so slightly.

"Y-you shouldn't be in here..." I murmured, finally glancing up at Luka. He looked down at me with his brows pinched in concern, and brushed a few stray curls out of my face.

"That's the last thing I'm concerned about right now," Luka said. "I'm worried about you."

"I'm fine...it's not like I'm dying or something. I probably just caught some stomach bug." I huffed out a breath when Luka pressed the back of his hand against my forehead.

"You're not fine." Luka scoffed. He lowered his hand and pressed it against my right cheek, and then my left. "Hm...You don't seem to have a fever..."

I rolled my eyes and pushed his hand away from me. Luke gave me a stern look. "Still...You need to get some rest. You shouldn't be here when you're this tired and throwing up. Are you going to be okay getting home? Do you want me to drive you?"

"I can drive myself. I can't just leave my car on campus anyway..." I murmured with a heavy sigh.

"Well, why don't you go lay down in my car for a bit? At least until your stomach calms down enough for you to drive."

"I...alright." I sighed, nodding my head.

After a few more minutes on the floor, Luka took my hand and helped me stand up. I stood on shaking legs, moving out of the stall to the sink to wash my hands. Luka flushed the toilet and followed after me, placing his hand on my upper back to gain my attention.

"Stay here, I'll be back." He said, and then, I watched through the mirror as he headed out of the bathroom.

He came back a minute or so later after I finished washing and drying my hands, carrying a plastic water bottle with him. I took the bottle when he handed it to me with a brief smile, squishing the water around in my mouth before spitting it into the sink.

After repeating it twice more, I followed Luka out of the bathroom. We headed back down the vacant hallway to the classroom, stopping once we were just outside the door.

"Wait here," Luka told me. He walked into the classroom, closing the door behind him.

I only had to wait for a few seconds before Luka came back out of the classroom, carrying both of our bags in his hands. He flashed me a warm smile, gesturing down the hall with a tilt of his head. "Come on, let's go."

"Wait, you're coming with me?" I frowned. "What about class?"

"Class can wait," Luka answered. "Just let me take care of you."

I shook my head, a smile tugging the corners of my lips upwards. "Okay, okay. I won't argue."

"Good. Because it's not an argument that you would have won." He smirked. I laughed, my smile widening, and I followed him back down the hallway.