He sat with his legs splayed underneath him, feeling as if he were walking on warm jelly. He had never exploded like that. Never screamed at someone, and had never gotten so mad that he simply couldn't keep it in anymore. But Layland, obsessed though Cian was with him, was a thoughtless and unfeeling bastard. That he couldn't stop thinking about him made it even harder to handle. He had to go to class. Had to keep his grades as high as possible. They were graded by the quality and consistency of their daily work as well as their weekly projects, and his sculpting class was no different. He'd already missed a day, and he had sculptures to fire and now, two to catch up on.

He had to get high grades, or his parents would force him into their field of work. He didn't want to go in front of the crowds, didn't want to pass out from stress or panic attack or deal with something that would simply force him to run away. And he couldn't run away---despite his age he could barely function around other people, and that was obvious as he turned his gaze away from others that passed him. No one had seen the outburst---he had made sure of that. But he still felt terribly guilty and couldn't tell why.

Fifteen minutes before the bell rang, Cian stepped into the classroom and sat at his easel, setting his painting with the others after signing his name on the bottom right corner in a white pen. No one else was in the room yet---not even Melody, who seemed to adore her painting. He relished the temporary silence, though his head buzzed with the sight of Layland.