As each day passed Cian managed to sleep, but always dreamed of Layland. The dreams were all embarrassing, and woke him up prematurely, often in the middle of the night. He begrudgingly finished the portrait, making a point not to harm it, ruin it, make it ugly in any way. He avoided any instance that might put him within eyesight of Layland, feeling like the first zombie at the start of an apocalypse. When he looked in a mirror Cian found himself drawn, with dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was limp and dull. He looked exhausted. He felt it. He probably felt worse than he looked, but nonetheless he focused in his classes and managed to catch up and keep up in his sculpting class.

He sighed, feeling drained and listless while his mind dwelled on Layland. Cian kept a hand on the wall beside him as he walked as if he had suddenly lost his sight, looking up when a door met his hand. He could do with some reading. Fiction to distract him. He went through the shelves and pulled random novels off the shelves, setting them down on one of the tables and setting his bag beside him. He barely glanced at the covers, flipping one open and staring at the first chapter. He stared a little too hard, forgetting what he was doing and closing his eyes, dozing over the book and immediately seeing an image of Layland burst into his mind's eye.