Cian glanced back to Layland and managed to smile a little. It was genuine, since he could hear the absolute confusion in his voice. "It was... is unmistakable that it's you. I... felt conscious that if... if I took it in, it would be... obvious that I'm... I think about you a lot. And I worried that you may not like the idea of being an unwitting model to my work." He shrugged, digging a little deeper into his pockets. "I guess it's hard to understand the... apprehension an artist goes through... worry. That they're never good enough. They'll never be good enough. Showing art that you're proud of can be... impossible, sometimes, because you just... don't want to know what awful things might be said about it. You don't want to be let down."

Sighing, Cian pushed back a branch that was in his way and waited for Layland to bypass it. "It's not as unpredictable as sciences. Sciences... Something happens or it doesn't. You're not expected to see the world in so many different colors. Artists have to be original. If they're not, they're... plagiarists, and if they're too original, they're seen as... they're too out of touch with today's concept of 'art'. It's so unpredictable that some suffer mental breakdowns without showing a single work."

A frown tugged at Layland's lips, but he managed to keep it at bay. Still, he couldn't help but think the artist's way of thinking was faulty. Was it all artists, or just Cian? He didn't speak to any others within the creatives circles so he had no trial group to base the assumption against. "Isn't it all a little stressful? Why do you do something if you're not going to be proud after you're done?" he asked. "As for it being my face? I couldn't care less if you showed that. No one in the art classes should know me anyway. Even if you know why you drew me...who else would?" It all sounded beyond obvious to him. It shouldn't have mattered. Wasn't good art enough? He was probably being insensitive though, so he didn't say more. He slipped past the branch and in front of Cian.

He smiled back as he finally found a point that he could connect to. "But in a way, that's where art and science are similar. Scientists have to be original too, especially on the front lines of research. You have to make everything up as you go. Those on the front lines always have to be progressive and if you're too progressive, you get laughed at by the stogy old folks and kicked out of the scientific community!" he added with a laugh. He'd hate that, but he did intend to try for progressive.

Cian let go of the branch and followed along, taking to Layland's side as they walked so he could show the way when the path branched out, which it did after a quick turn to the left. He went along the right path. "Perhaps..." He muttered. "The mind of an artist and a scientist are so different, though. You feel sure of yourself, as you should. You know if you fail you can restart. Things can be replicated with the right amount of focus. Art needs something along the lines of science to mix the right colors and make sure you keep the right mixture in mind next time to replicate the tone. And knowing the different medium and brush type with the right type of paint is necessary too, similar to scientific tools."

He shrugged. "Then again, there's the mind of an artist. Always doubting themselves... We're more in tune with our emotions I suppose... Or maybe I am... I'm just too overemotional... I worry all the time, that I'll fail. And I'll let everyone down. I know my logical mind... says that I shouldn't feel that way, because no one's expecting me to be perfect. But the ones that matter..." He glanced up to Layland. "I don't even know who they are anymore."

Layland couldn't deny what Cian said. He tried to make a connection between them and there was some, but they were also so very different in these matters. Where their family styles might cross, their personalities most certainly did not. Something occurred to him though and he said it aloud without thinking. "But maybe that's it. I think too much. You feel too much. Even with that girl I originally made the potion for--she's irrelevant at this point--but it was because she appeared different. I can't understand this mushy artist talk at all," he said with a little groan. He didn't know where he was going with this line of conversation at all. He had that sort of habit, talking his thoughts out. He made a note of the path and its turns. He'd be able to find this place again if he wanted, not that he saw the way. "Anyway, I guess I'm thinking we're good for each other."

Cian had to bite his tongue to stop the expanding sensation in his chest. Like a balloon about to pop in his heart, painful. "Maybe... But that... that almost made me say something stupid. But... I know I can't change you. I'm glad to be your friend but... if I do something... really, really stupid... Something... you might like to punch me for... I hope you'll forgive me. I know you can't change your sexuality and I'm not going to try to even consider asking you that but... Ah... damn it, here I am, feeling too much again." He went silent and glared at the ground as it solidified into stone, and they emerged onto the road. He automatically turned left, toward his home.

In his mind he was going out of his way to make the situation as free of awkwardness as he possibly could. But it was only making it worse. He was tense with the internal wish that he could find the courage to spin around and plant a kiss on Layland just to see what would happen. And he knew that would give him a black eye, or split lip, or---worse than either of those---a complete abandonment that he couldn't rectify.

The second the word sexuality came up, Layland shut down. He had no more to say. He almost did, but all the things he could say sounded irrelevant. He wanted to say it should be the same for Cian. That he didn't really want any of this and he shouldn't want a man at all if not for the potion. Once that was gone, he wouldn't want to change Layland. And he certainly didn't change well. Men of logic rarely did, as his father taught him so well.

"Ah what the hell!" he finally exclaimed. "I don't want to hear these kinds of things, but I don't hit people, especially not people like you. I'd feel as dishonorable as if I hit a girl!" Sure he had a temper. He yelled, but when had he ever hit anyone? He hated to think that Cian might be the first person to push the right button for it. It'd be a crappy way to start their friendship. They were on the road now and he didn't want to be talking such things where someone might hear.

Cian winced and folded his arms in front of him, a protective manner of movement, just like he always did. "I never said you did..." He muttered, just barely loud enough for his voice to carry. But he went silent after that, stifling a light sigh and stepping fully up onto the curb. He hadn't exactly expected to be compared to a girl, though it was often a point of reference by others. 'Pretty as a girl' often came up more than he'd like to admit in conversation, but he couldn't exactly talk back---he didn't have the courage. He silently pointed to his home, and started feeling in his pockets until he produced the key. Had he locked the door? He couldn't quite remember.

Layland sighed. Did Cian shut down on him again? He didn't say much of anything, but then, Layland didn't say anything that warranted much response. He bit back on his to fill the silence considering Cian's response just made him want to sigh. His eyes shifted over the home and he allowed himself a small smile. He didn't like or dislike what he saw, but he did respect it. Standing to the side, he watched as Cian unlocked the door as he scrounged about for something to say. It'd become awkward if he said nothing. "This looks like a nice place."

So he had locked the door. Why did he never remember when he did? Twisting the key in the lock, he glanced back. "Thanks... I didn't want something... big or showy. Just... unassuming. They never understand why I don't want to be some... some crazy, flamboyant magic maker, but I guess it's not up for them to decide, entirely." He stepped in and ushered Layland in, closing the door. "I hope it's not too messy..." He set his shoulder bag on a chair nearby. "And... ah, well, here... the..." He nodded forward, scurrying into one of the bedrooms he had set up as his painting studio. The painting in question was against the wall, and he pulled it up, against the half-done muddy forest he had accidentally created before.

Layland smiled as he stepped inside. "It's fine. This is clean." Messy? He could never say such a thing. His place would double Cian's in messiness. It used to be cluttered but clean, though stress had even that flying out the window. He followed Cian into the studio room and his eyes went a little wide. "Oh...that's..." One of his rare moment of speechlessness came upon him as he saw the paintings there, particularly the one of him. He could hardly blink when looking at it. "It's beautiful. Somehow...although it's strange for me to say. I like it." He leaned a little closer as he looked at it. "Is that how I look to you?" It wasn't like looking in a mirror. He could recognize himself, but almost not.

Cian clasped his hands together in front of him to keep them from shaking. He hadn't expected the silence, since Layland always seemed to have a response at the ready no matter the situation. And he hadn't expected such a positive word. When Layland indicated how it seemed to appear different, perhaps, through his eyes, he felt his face flush. "Um... well, yes..." He spoke quietly. "I'm sorry... if it seems... too embellished? I just... I wanted it to be as perfect as I could make it. I just... well, yes, that's... how you look to me..." Was it to fantastical? Ever since that damned potion he saw Layland through crystal glasses, shining and ethereal. But how would he possibly react to that if Cian said anything like that? So he clamped his mouth shut.

Cian didn't have to say aloud how he Layland. It could be seen clearly enough without the explanation. Even if Layland had no experience analyzing art, anyone with eyes and half an idea as to their situation could see it. The silence stretched a little long again. Layland expected himself to have something to say. He expected himself to be a little bothered that such admiration showed through in a painting by this guy. He didn't know how he felt though. Not bad. Not angry in any way. Just quiet in contemplation. Finally he realized his silence must be awful to the artist so Layland cleared his throat. "Maybe it's just hard to recognize myself. I see so much in the painting though. Like everything is new and shiny. A person never expects to look at their own face that way," he said. It didn't mean much. He doubted he assuaged any nerves Cian got from showing the painting with those words.

Cian didn't run out of the room like he thought he might. It was refreshing to feel... some form of pride in what he was doing with his life. Using no magic to create pictures and scenes. He reached forward, rearranging the canvas over the top of the ugly one. "Thank you... I'm so glad---I mean, it's good you like it... Um, I have others. I practice when I'm not at class, or working on any... anything else..." He sighed, at a loss suddenly. "I've never had someone here before I'm sorry... I just don't know what to do. I just... you can... look around, I'll... be in the room across." He ducked out, feeling as if he'd just hit a wall. What did people do when they invited someone over? Especially someone they were in dog-loyal, absolute, unfiltered love with? There was no way they just stood or sat around in awkward silence. No doubt one tried to leave as soon as possible to make it less painful for both of them. He scurried into the second spare room and pulled an extremely long case toward him from the back of the pair of desks it sat on and opened it up. Small gems ranging from 0.03 carats to four. He had smokey quartz near the top of the cases, organized by size.

Blinking, Layland watched Cian stutter, then excuse himself from the room. That was...odd wasn't it? He didn't know what to say though, so he just nodded. "Okay. I was going to look at this for a minute more. The morning is already mostly over though," he said as he sighed at the watch that never left his wrist. He hated to rely on something like his phone to tell time during the day. Looking at the paintings around the room let him forget time for a bit though. After a minute, he wandered into the next room and stood in the doorway, watching. "I have to help teach a class at 10:30 so I should get along." It was amazing enough that he'd spent this long away from school and even more amazing that he didn't feel guilty, at least not until now and even that was only a nag in the back of his head. "You don't have class today?" he asked Cian.

He didn't often use them, so he had many smokey quartz. It seemed they were rather disliked in favor of flashier, more expensive gems, but their subtle simplicity made Cian smile when he worked with them. He was counting out several dozen of the .03 carat gems when Layland's voice nearly startled him. He turned, and nodded quickly. "Ooh, um... right, I see."

Of course he had forgotten the time. He hadn't taken his watch with him. Cian paused, picking up a small glass bowl, of which he had a stack sitting nearby, and poured the gems in. "Ah... Well..." He used his finger to recount the gems. "... I... did have a sculpting class... but... it wasn't my... I didn't like it much... A-and I know it's too late to get into another painting class so I'm hoping my parents will accept and allow me to take a second to make up for what I'm quitting because I'm not as interested in it but I'm not sure..." He paused for breath. "I just... don't know what they'll say at this point... s-so I'm scared." His voice dropped to a fragile whisper at the end, and he set the small bowl on his workdesk to sort through the white gold he had at hand, blinking away tears as he did.

Layland stayed in the doorway, blinking. He planned for that to be his goodbye but his feet stayed rooted to the spot. He hummed quietly and shifted in his spot. To go closer or to leave? He couldn't decide so he did neither. After a second, he wracked his brain for a proper response. "Well...you should take classes you want. It may be too late to add a class, but it's not too late to drop one." He shifted again, still unsure of what to say. He swore it sounded like Cian was breaking down and he was the worst person to deal with it. "So I'll see you later...I guess? Since we're friends now, we won't avoid each other," he added with more sureness. "Bye." He quickly backed out of the room and headed for the door. He knew the roads so he could find his way to campus now.

Cian nodded, working to control his breathing so it didn't look like he was nearing a panic attack. When he was left alone, however, it began to subside. He knew Layland was just trying to be nice---or his equivalent of nice. And they didn't have to avoid one another now. He didn't want to avoid Layland at all, really. There was a kindness behind the learned aversion to people that Cian wanted to know so badly, and now, he couldn't tell whether it was the potion or his own mentality telling him that. Maybe it was his own underlying stubbornness. He'd proven to Layland and to himself that there was more than this fragile, shy, over-emotional child, so there was more going on now.

He sat and started on the bracelet. It would be less dainty, made more for a male's arm. Or perhaps unisex. There would need to be something present to fill the hole that was made by dropping his carving class, and if he painted, there as a nine-in-ten chance that he would be painting variations of Layland and thinking awful, secret things that would kill him to even begin to consider revealing. He shook his head, moving his hair back as he started embedding the gems.

Layland walked to campus with overly quick steps that nearly stomped. He always walked that way when he thought. It only took him five seconds after leaving Cian's place to start thinking about him. He kept stomping down on the thoughts to keep his mind from coming up with irrational conclusions. The only thing he did know what that he did want their friendship to work. It was awkward and they started off on all the wrong feet, but he was stubborn. He didn't want to leave things alone now.

When he walked into the chemistry building, the students avoided him and a few teacher's glanced at him strangely. As if clockwork Layland might be broken for showing up late. He stormed straight into the large classroom that served as the freshman intro class he helped with. Nearly ten minutes early, the only person there was the professor and he raised an eyebrow silently.

"I thought the world might end and you wouldn't show up. Did you just get here?"

Layland snatched the piles of papers being handed to him and sat at the mini teacher's assistant desk with a huff and a growl as his only response.

The phone rang and he jumped the first time. Pausing to pick it up, Cian glared at the caller ID and waited for the call to end, then he turned the phone off and hid it in his bedroom, underneath the blankets. He didn't want to make his parents mad, and ignoring their phone calls would manage that. But he wanted to at least cut ties with them. He wanted to be on his own, but maybe he was just feeling bold because he finally acknowledged that he'd be fully dropping that sculpting class. Maybe it was that decision that made him feel bold. Maybe, when he was met with a stranger, he'd collapse in on himself like a star going supernova.

He closed his eyes as the nauseating wave of fear passed, and he started clasping the bracelet together. He looked up for the first time in what felt like hours, and glanced at the clock. It looked to be near the time his second class would be wrapping up for the day, so he took his nearly finished creation with him as he left the house, rubbing the pain out of his neck as he started down the road. Maybe he could catch Layland before he left, and hand over the white gold and simplistic smokey quartz before he left campus.

After the freshman intro class, Layland spent the day in the labs. His rats finally came in and he had to be there at one that afternoon to sign for them. The little white things lined the special room to the side of the lab, each running around the cages. He had ten in all, a decent amount for a trail experiment. Although if he failed too many times, he might be needing another batch. He did hope it wouldn't come to that though.

He fed the rats the samples of love potion he had stored in the freezer. He'd let that work through their systems and observe to see if they reacted as expected. Experiments were a slow business. Layland had little interest in working on other things so he took his laptop to the cafeteria to type up his notes and work on a research paper for another class. Nothing he couldn't write in his sleep.

He went through the parking lot and found the vehicle he was sure Layland drove, since he'd seen the man interact with it before. With the item in his pocket weighing him down, he felt like he needed to get it away from him as soon as possible. Many students remained in the area, milling around here and there inside and out, for a few hours at the most, before returning home. Cian found himself taking a familiar route, going to the labs but finding him absent. After a moment, he decided to look around the cafeteria. Usually that was a nice place to work after breakfast or lunch, and classes were out.

When he started through the cafeteria, Cian was trying his best not to look at anyone or catch their eye. He was looking slightly up, so he didn't see the foot jut out in front of him and send him stumbling forward a few feet, then smashing face-first into the floor. He had scrambled up onto his knees before the pain in one of his front teeth registered, and he doubled over, gasping as he felt the chip that had been taken out of his front left tooth. The laughter that was finally permeating the immediate area brought angry, embarrassed tears to his eyes, but he couldn't move.

Two pages into his paper, Layland heard a ruckus that made him look up. A crash, and then of course the laughter came next. Really, college students could be more immature than high schoolers, especially those freshman who had never been away from their parents before. Unexpectedly though, Layland felt a rush of interest in the scene. Through the table legs and people, he recognized the person on the floor.

He stood and slammed his laptop closed loud enough for the giggling stander-bys to glance his way. The laughter choked off when they caught sight of his icy glare. Layland didn't say anything. He just stood there and suddenly the crowd scattered. Sighing, he let the glare soften off his face before he stepped forward. "Cian, are you okay?"

His ears were ringing, a mix of the laughter and the screaming in his own head. Then it was gone. It was too... quiet. He rubbed the palms of his hands over his eyes and looked up, holding his breath and covering his mouth. "I..." His voice was choked, so he went quiet, feeling around the floor and shaking his head. How much worse could it get? He felt like he was about to burst into flame.

After a moment, Cian was able to gather his wits. "I... my tooth..." He pointed around. "It..." He sighed, bringing his hands away from his mouth to show the chip taken out of his left front tooth. It stung, and he could feel his mouth throbbing with every heart beat, but it wasn't bleeding. But it hurt. He blinked through the tears and tried to spot the chunk on the white tile.

Layland squatted down in front of Cian, trying to see what the problem was. He didn't catch on until a second later when he looked closer and noticed the tooth. His eyes widened just slightly. There in the corner of Cian's tooth was a missing bit. Layland lifted his hand. A strange gesture he couldn't quite be sure of how to follow through. So he dropped his hand. "Oh...does it hurt?" He had no experience with such injuries. "Can you fix it with magic?" He looked around the floor. There were plenty of little white bits on the floor--bread crumbs and whatever left over from lunches. But surely Cian didn't need to find the chip to use magic, though he didn't know the rules.

Did it hurt? Of course it hurt! Cian couldn't say it, but he managed to nod, feeling the chip with his index finger. And just where was the rest? Everything else was either too off-white or too small to be what he'd lost. "I can't... I can't... do it without the rest..." Cian rubbed his eyes clear, then got onto his hands and knees. "I need the whole thing to repair it... It... I just can't conjure something up out of thin air, nothing works like that... If I could... if I... j-just had the piece, I could repair it..." People had been walking all over, scuttling off when Layland came by. Dozens of feet had come and gone, shuffling and sweeping, and now, it could be anywhere. What would he tell his parents? What would they think? They didn't like imperfection like this, and now... was it an automatic abandonment? He shook his head, clasping his hand over his mouth and pushing himself up. Cian had already been self-conscious, what would he do now? Never speaking again sounded like a logical plan, at least for him.