"I'm here!" Dao shouted across the room, glancing around. 

"I'm over here." 

A soft voice caught Dao’s attention, and he turned toward the right corner of the room. That’s where he found Kiet—his roommate. They had been living together for a couple of months, and their small dorm room, designed for two people, was divided in style. Dao didn't pay much attention to anything, so his yellow-and-green walls weren`t decorated with posters, stickers, paintings, and there were no figurines or strange lizard-like objects on the computer desk besides headphones and a few pens. His bedding was beige with no toys, all well-organized. The only thing that hinted him as a medical student was the bookshelf overstuffed with books and magazines, teetering precariously at the edge of collapse and it could easily crush on Dao at any moment. And this was after he’d already tidied the place before going to bed. He sighed, shaking his head as he walked to his friend. Dao raised an eyebrow, gave Kiet a mockingly disapproving glance, wanting to slap him on the head. 

"So, you’ve been up painting all night and all morning," Dao looked at his wristwatch. "Oh, and apparently all day too. Kiet, you’re going to die from sleep deprivation and starvation. Your paintings aren’t going to run away from you if you stick to a normal human schedule instead of playing Batman. You’re covered in paint, by the way,” Dao snorted. 

"And so are you," Kiet answered him in a gentle voice. 

Unlike Dao’s side of the room, Kiet had decided not to hide the fact that despite being enrolled in the engineering faculty, as evidenced by the gear-shaped pin on his desk, it was clear his soul truly belonged to the fine arts. His walls were covered with paintings that he had painted himself, all over his desk there were scattered paints, pencils, pens, palettes, glasses of water, mastics and paper sheets. He even had two easels for different canvases and not an ounce of concern for space.  In fact, Dao had already measured the dividing line between their sides twice because his friend kept trying to throw his stuff over to him. If it weren’t for a few broomstick blows from the janitor and the dorm commandant, Kiet probably would’ve painted the walls too. Every morning, he complained about the colors and how they clashed with the vibrations and the textures. Dao had no idea what kind of vibrations he meant but he particularly didn`t care to find out. He tugged at a lock of Kiet’s hair until he started threatening to paint him. 

"Dao, let me go, please. I have slept. A little, but I have slept. I had inspiration, I couldn’t hold it. You know how it is." Kiet yawned, covering his mouth with his hand. "But now, I just want to eat more than to sleep. Did you happen to bring me breakfast?" 

"You mean lunch?" Dao raised a thin eyebrow questioningly and turned away. "No. I rushed back home. I wanted to takea  shower and invite you downstairs to eat. I had a terrible day, and the only thing on my mind now is going home." 

"Oh, you’re want to go home this weekend?" Kiet glanced at his unfinished painting with a depressed expression. He clearly was dissatisfied that he hadn't managed to complete it before Dao arrived. 

"I missed last ones. I need to visit my grandmother, and the neighbors have called, they need help," He nodded, frowning. "So, are we going to eat? I’ll take a quick shower first, then we’ll have a bite. And afterward, I’ll be packing my bags, and you’re going straight to bed and having a rest."

"All right, all right, don’t be mad," Kiet smiled, turning back to his painting. 

Dao looked at his friend and smirked. They were such opposites. Kiet was the embodiment of gentleness. He often lounged around in silk shorts and a T-shirt, put a blanket, robe, sabai, towel, whatever, over his shoulders, because he was always getting windblown. While Dao fanned in the breeze under the air conditioner, Kiet was perpetually freezing. His friend took care of his skin and hair a hundred times better, resorting to multiple levels of cleansing and care, while Dao could wash it with soap. Not that he’d ever admit it, of course , but a fact was a fact. And right now, after a sleepless night of painting and covered in paint, Kiet looked many times better and fresher. It was his superpower. All his movements were smooth, precise, as if he always had a brush in his hands, and his voice was calm and lulling. Like a river, he didn’t knock down obstacles but flowed around them without ever changing direction or aim. That was Kiet, the artist from the engineering faculty. 

Dao, despite the tidiness of his side of the room, could bite anyone. No, he didn't have a fiery temper.  He called him “The Punisher” in a mild manner. Anyone who did shit deserved a punch. Unfortunately, not everyone agreed with his value system and sometimes Dao could taste the taste of failed vigilante justice on his lips. Blunt and fearless with his words, he could scold everyone whether he deserved or not instead of Kiet. Perhaps they were brought together in the same room to balance the universe and set it in order. Throwing a towel over his shoulder, Dao wiped the sweat from his forehead. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Kiet had fallen asleep face-first into his canvas. This was how the human, in his opinion, was transforming from the creator of an installation to a performance. With his head cocked up, he proudly stepped into the shower. He still had bags to pack and a bus to catch, or he’d end up walking home again at night. 

The cold shower brought back Dao's desire to live. The humidity outside was unbearable, fighting, rolling around in the grass, and sweating had drained him of his last strength. He washed his hair with Kiet's shampoo, hoping that he wouldn't measure its contents with a cylinder, otherwise he risked to found paint in his own bottle.  Dao didn't hang out for long, so he turned off the water and hastily wiped himself with a towel. Not that it mattered—he’d be drenched again in half an hour. He looked at himself in the mirror, flexing one of his arms, smiling widely at his small biceps. No matter how much effort he put into working out, the results were modest. Dao immediately brushed his teeth and combed his hair, though it didn't help much and his hair was sticking up in different directions. It was a pleasure to change out of his uniform into his home clothes: short red shorts and a wrestling shirt. Slamming his drawer with skincare cosmetics, he headed back to the room. Unsurprisingly, but Kiet wasn’t asleep. 

"You’re out of your mind," Dao only said when he saw his friend. Kiet was holding his trembling right hand with his left. "You need to rest, or it’s going to get worse—for both you and the painting." 

"I know. It was just an unexpected cramp. I almost ruined the painting. Give me five minutes, and then we’ll go, okay?" softly, but with emphasis asked his friend and Dao decided not to argue with him.

"Fine. Ten minutes." 

Dao fell on his bed and for a moment laziness almost convinced him to stay in the dorm and have a good rest.  It had been the exhausting week, but his conscience wouldn’t let those thoughts take root and destroy his confidence. He glanced back at Kiet; the tremors in his hand had stopped. 

Dao pulled his phone out of his bag and started browsing through the thousands of chats in the LINE that his elders had added him to. The initiation and communication with his Pi would begin soon, so he couldn't ignore the information even if he wanted to. Of course Dao couldn't even show the others by his facial expression that he wasn't interested. A doctor who disliked crowds of people and overly intrusive representatives of them was an odd phenomenon. So he read who was to come where and when, where everything would begin. He realized tiredly that ninety-nine percent of the information was his classmates' assumption about the day of initiation. They weren't yet allowed by their elders to wear gowns. Dao was irritated by that fact. He had prepared for his enrollment with such persistence, and it was impossible to show off in a gown. Dao exhaled tiredly and finished scrolling the chats. He found the date: initiation would officially begin next Wednesday at 6 p.m., just when he had just three classes. He yawned and glanced at Kiet, he was already evaluating the picture, which meant they will going out to eat soon.