ep. 5: all nighter

in which yibo stays up to write (read: fake it til you make it) his essay on van gogh

8pm

"Is it just me or are the dining halls around here stepping up their game?" Minghao chirps, too much of a spring in his step for Yibo to handle.

Yibo shoots him a glance. "Just you."

"You're no fun," Minghao says, swinging his keychain in the air, only to be smacked squarely in the face by the bundle of keys.

"I can't believe you know how to do tricks with nunchucks but can't even handle keeping your keys out of your face," Yibo mutters under his breath, before he's kicked in the shin by Minghao's pair of more-expensive-than-yours Nike Airs.

By the time they get back to their dorm, Yibo settles into his desk for a nice game of League while Minghao flutters from door to door in the hallway to say hi to their floormates. This is how Yibo knows that Minghao has potential to be a doctor. He can actually socialize with people.

Ah, well, Yibo thinks to himself as he puts on his headphones. Noise-cancelling. Mmm. He relaxes in his chair, as if he had zero cares in the world.

8:30pm

So like, Yibo is sort of screwed.

"No, you're like, reallyyyy screwed," Minghao says, drawing out his words in that annoying way of his.

Yibo glares at his roommate, who is currently shoving Pocky sticks (the strawberry kind) in his mouth a mere half an hour after ingesting two pieces of cheesecake for dessert.

He had been surfing the web, nonchalant as ever, when he received a notification from his professor that reminded him that his essay was due. TOMORROW. At 9 in the morning. Great. Absolutely splendid.

"I mean, no biggie, I've pulled lots of all-nighters before," Yibo says, but suddenly his palms start sweating so much that he can barely type on his keyboard to even login and access the assignment. So much for staying calm in the face of impending doom and disaster.

"This is true," Minghao affirms, hands clasping Yibo's shoulders to give him a massage. Yibo yelps at the unexpected contact. "You have a lot of knots in your shoulders," he observes, but Yibo just shoves his hands away. "Fine, whatever, stay stressed," Minghao sighs, a little miffed.

A pause.

"What class is this for again?" Minghao asks.

"History of Art..." Yibo mumbles. He's already getting a headache just thinking about it. It was one of the only classes left that worked in his schedule and satisfied the reading and composition requirement.

Minghao laughs. "Welp. Good luck!"

Yibo groans.

9:00pm

Yibo happens to be low-key hyperventilating so he decides to go to The Den to grab some coffee to tide him over. He shuffles quickly through the crisp night air in flip flops and sweats, only to come face to face with Tzuyu, who also happens to be standing in line.

"What's up, Yibo?" she asks, fiddling with the charm on her wallet.

Yibo simply sends her a pained expression. He really doesn't have the heart to elaborate right now.

Her eyebrows lift a little in understanding. "Project due soon? Is it gonna be a long night again?"

He sighs. "Even worse. I have an essay due tomorrow morning for my History of Art class and honestly I don't even like art history, not that there's anything wrong with the art itself – I mean, I'm supposed to write about van Gogh and he's cool and all, his paintings are quite swirly y'know – but like how do you write about art? Or the history of it? How does one even – essay ? What is an essay? Do you know how much this is not my forte? I'm so screwed. Tzuyu, please start preparing my funeral."

She's looking at him, amused. But also with a tad of pity in her eyes. Yeah, she better be.

9:15pm

Yibo strolls as calmly as he can into their dorm room and surveys his desk. He gulps. It looks like a World War III disaster zone, with papers strewn everywhere, various writing utensils sticking out, plastic water bottles ranging from empty to Yibo-forgot-to-finish-me-halfway to I'm-new-and-Yibo-still-forgot-about-me, and he's pretty sure he lost his grilled cheese sandwich in that mess once. Not sure if he ended up finding it or not.

Well, I guess we'll see, he thinks to himself as he marches toward his desk with his venti-sized cup of coffee. Extra shots just because.

After a grueling 20 minutes, Yibo finally sees the surface of his desk. The patterns in the wood are art in itself, Yibo muses, only now truly appreciating what it's like to have a fully functional desk.

"Wow, I'm impressed," Minghao calls from his own study area in the opposite corner.

10:00pm

"Alright, let's see here...." Yibo says softly to himself, pulling up to his laptop again. The Facebook tab is open, so he finds himself into the black hole of statuses and photos and memes and "tag your friend in this so they can open this post just to see a cucumber" photos (he tags Yixuan because why not).

Lu Han's profile pops up because Wenhan had liked a photo that he'd been tagged in. He instantly goes into fanboy mode and scrolls through Lu Han's profile. Then his Weibo. Then his Instagram. He notices a trend: that most of what Lu Han posts is pseudo-artsy fake-deep shots of himself along with the caption "yo yo yo~" or something along those lines. Yibo wonders whether he knows how to caption anything else. Oh well. He works at Google. Must be smart, right?

After he exhausts that, he goes on Weibo to stalk Zitao and his perfectly-lit selfies, literally digging all the way back to 2012.

And then he casually clicks into Yifan's dog's Weibo as well. Cute stuff.

11:00pm

He stares at the time and almost jumps out of his skin. "HOLY CRAP," he shouts, his loud outburst surprising Minghao who's in the middle of eating a chocolate bar. Does this kid ever stop eating?

First step: the van Gogh Wikipedia article. That's a good place to start as any.

As he reads, the words threaten to blur together, but he tells himself if he keeps blinking and keeps chugging coffee that all will be well.

You can do this.

12:00am

He's not quite sure how much knowledge he's actually soaked in by the time the clock strikes midnight. "NEW DAY, NEW ME," Yibo says, clenching his jaw with much determination. He busts out a tentative essay outline. Maybe if he thinks hard enough sentences and paragraphs will just appear on the screen.

His newfound conviction is quickly dampened by the sight of Minghao changing into his PJ's. Really now? What an overachiever.

"Good night," Minghao waves, climbing into his bed. "Good luck!"

Yibo sighs, staring at the Word document in front of him that is empty, save for his name and the date. Oh wait, he could add the professor's name and the class, too. There, that's better.

1:00am

Time for a nap????

He gives into the urge.

Maybe he'll be more inspired once he gets some rest.

2:00am

Much regret.

It's okay, I'll take a shower to clear my mind, Yibo thinks. He almost trips over his shower towel in the hallway.

3:00am

Okay. Let's do this.

He cracks his knuckles and starts typing. He's quite the expert at writing BS. Probably one of the reasons why he even graduated high school as it is.

Maybe if he blasts his gaming music playlist into his headphones it'll get him into the fighting spirit.

4:00am

Things are coming along alright, except for the fact that he's growing delirious and he can no longer feel the tips of his fingers. He also happens to have a cramp in his neck from staying in one position for too long. He does some jumping jacks to get the blood flowing to his brain.

It only makes him more exhausted. RIP.

Halfway through the hour he's wide awake and barreling through the paragraphs.

He finds that Zitao had updated with a new selfie. Nice.

5:00am

He rummages through Minghao's drawer to find the tea bags that his mom had sent over (along with the apron that he wears all too often now, even when they're just in their room and he's not even cooking).

More caffeine. Please.

Oh hey, is it the sun rising that I see?

Beautiful stuff.

Hard to appreciate beauty though, when you can barely open your eyes.

6:00am

Okay, I'm basically done, SCREW IT, Yibo thinks, no longer able to formulate complete sentences.

Highlights of the ordeal include accidentally typing Han Lu instead of Yi Bo Wang at the top of the paper, looking at a white piece of printer paper only to see rainbow colors everywhere, him curling up in fetus position on the floor (underneath his desk, where he feels relatively safer from the horrors of art analysis), and watching food videos on repeat as he raids Minghao's snack stash (without his permission, shhh).

No matter how many all-nighters that he pulls, it is always surreal as ever when he looks out the window and sees the pale blue sky as the world comes to life. Of course, he feels like anything but alive, at this point.

He uploads his Word doc (not bothering to fix the fact that the title is "minghaosapron.docx"), clicks submit, and in the same breath, collapses onto his bed.

Ah, sleep has never felt so good. And with 3 hours to spare until the deadline.

He smiles a little, his eyes shut tight. Maybe he'll skip classes today. He deserves it, after all.