Tensor

Who: Josh and Kevin
When: Sunday, 3/20 (After Josh/Julian)
Where: Kevin's studio
What: Confront infidelity

( It hurts when I see you struggle. )

Noah knew that no one was ever summoned to the Captain's office on their birthday, so he had patiently gone through his daily routine as his eighteenth year arrived and his seventeenth departed. Two days later being patient was taking a lot more effort than he cared to admit. A good deal of that was directly his roommate's fault. A meticulous, compulsive neat freak Noah was finding it immensely difficult to survive Julio's tidiness deficiency. The urge to just clean it all for him had set an almost permanent tick in his right eye. But Julio would likely not feel at all comfortable with the arrangement, and Noah's counselor had told him mentorship - no matter how small - was looked upon well. It was not as if there were very many months left in the year that he could not endure it. It was best too, that he learn to cope with potentially hostile situations. He would likewise have a roommate once he was a cadet - there was no doubt in his mind he would not be asked, and no thought whatsoever of turning the invitation down - and it was in his best interest to learn to endure all personality types. Even if he did often miss his previous roommate. He had let Noah clean everything as often as he liked. It had been a very comfortable arrangement.

Because he could not clean the room any further without infringing upon Julio's personal expression, Noah had taken to cleaning the bathroom often. Thankfully, not everything had changed and their suitemates were accustomed to his need to keep everything orderly. Between their joint rooms, the heat was quite high and so the bathroom warmed quickly and easily to slightly uncomfortable temperatures. Thus, Noah was standing in the shower stall, scrubbing the tiles in nothing but a pair of swim trunks.

All the tiny tiles were comforting in their need for attention. They were also quite easily broken - as he had learned over time - and so were themselves also good training in strength distribution. He scrubbed the brush across the grout, pleased with the white shine.

Without his instruments to play - not that he would play them if he still could - Josh's therapist had commissioned a painting. It was non-negotiable and was due at the end of the week. Outlets were outlets for a reason, apparently. And if Josh could best communicate only through creative expression, then expression was going to be seen to. Whether or not Josh liked it.

Generally, Josh had music playing in the background when he painted. But music no longer held any allure. So he let his thoughts feed his white noise.

He'd been working for three days. Seeing to his mandatory studio time. The requirement wasn't putting any undue stress on his schedule. So he couldn't try and wiggle out of it. Surprisingly, the painting was coming along solidly. He wasn't losing anything between his breaks of class, meals, practice and sleep. If anything, it seemed to be forming faster.

He pulled the brush against the canvas, blue swirling with the darker shades. Layers of it. One upon another spanning the entire canvas from corner to corner. He wasn't ready to touch the central figure. Wasn't ready to admit it to himself yet. That would be last. He still had time.