Memories of how it used to be painted thick on the walls

[couldntreach]

Content Warning: Semi-graphic suicide attempt behind the cut

( The man you saw wasn't me and now there's blood upon the bathroom floor )

Can you not have the attention span of a goldfish?

[neverdanced]

Midterms were approaching, which was only slightly less stressful than finals. Although he was an art major, Steve still had a lot to get done. He had to finish his portfolios for three different classes, techniques to master and be able to explain the significance of, as well as being able to write in-depth analyses on the symbolism of various pieces. He still had a long way to go, but he would at least be finished with the portfolio part shortly. All he had to do was finish a few more drawings using different mediums.

Bucky, on the other hand, had a lot more to study and memorise if he wanted to do well. That hadn't escaped Steve at all. He glanced over at him a few times, then stretched his legs out, intentionally nudging Bucky with one.

"Hey, why don't you crack open a book or something? Your not studying is distracting me."