Xan lay in his bed, on his stomach. He propped his head up on one fist, his other hand outlining a girl's face. He mouthed the words of an angry song that blasted from a radio next to the bed. He was scowling, but his face softened into a half smile as he started on the eyes in his picture. Even when Xan smiled, which was rarely, his face still looked pretty fierce. He had a cold, hardened look in his eyes, and there were scars from a car accident on his face. Xan was aware that he was ugly. He simply didn't believe it when Maia told him she didn't agree. Maia is so beautiful, I can't draw her right, he thought to himself. He turned off his radio, and continued sketching. He was thinking of the girl his picture was depicting. He remembered her voice, a sound that made him feel that life was not so bad afterall. He wished he could touch her face again. But why? he asked himself. It couldn't last. She would have to realize that he was worthless sooner or later. He felt guilty. If I love her, why do I let her stay with me? I am just bad news for her. Then he did a doubletake. Love? Do I actually love her? Xan was terrified at the thought. He set aside his drawing with a fond look, and turned out his lamp. Maybe in the morning things would make more sense to him. He tried not to think of Maia as he fell asleep, but didn't succeed and had dreams that he would rather not have remembered in the morning.