Valentine was so close. He was so fucking close to escaping this hellish prison of a place called school. He just had his everything project to do, and his million papers, and talks, and-- he didn't even know anymore. He took on the work as it came, ceasing to attempt proper organization, lest it swiftly kill him with stress, putting him out of his misery. He was unfortunately determined to win this fight.
He needed to graduate, it was time, he'd been screwing around with college since he was a teenager and at this point it was just pathetic. They wanted him out, and he shared the sentiments completely. So, with that in mind, his grades, and a few family pulled strings, he'd had this advanced program dropped on him. It was absolute torture. But he was going to win it.
It was nearly August. Very last stretch. He couldn't heave his huge sigh of relief quite yet, but he was close, and that was making him all levels of high strung and restless. He'd been practically camping out in the Library these last few days, with little human contact, and would probably be keeping it that way.
Val started off his morning going straight there again, studying and writing in his notes obsessively and without pause, then in the late afternoon… falling fast asleep on a pile of open books and scattered mechanical pencils. This wasn't appropriate Crowther heir behavior in the slightest. He couldn't be bothered to care at this point.
