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“I couldn’t have done it without you,” she says, smiling at her brother. Then she turns to me. “Sterling has been supporting me for years now.”

That makes a lot of sense. There is some sort of melancholy in his pictures, something real and heart-wrenching aside from his confidence. If he is the one supporting his sister, it makes me wonder what their parents are doing or if they are still around.

However, it’s not my position to ask, and certainly not the right time for it.

“I am happy to see you here, Roxana. I hope you will enjoy the evening.”

“I’m sure I will.” She smiles happily. “Thank you.”

“And your second guest?” I ask.

“Oh, he is grabbing something to eat,” Mateo says, gesturing towards the buffet. I follow the direction he is pointing at, my eyes falling on a young man with wavy hair and a slender figure. My heart almost stops beating.

“Shades of Blue,” I mutter.

Mateo and Roxana haven’t heard me, too busy chatting, but Sterling has. He stares at me, his mouth dropping open. “How could you tell?” he asks quietly.

“You captured him too well for me not to recognize him.”

“No one else can,” Sterling muses. “Aside from those who know us well enough. He is one of my best friends, like a brother to me.”

“I am going to say hello to him,” I say.

“Are you not afraid it will shatter your illusion?” Sterling sounds curious, not upset or worrying.

“No, not at all. Do you know why?”

“I have no idea,” Sterling admits.

“He is your muse, not mine,” I explain. “For me, however, your picture scratched on a surface I want to know more about.”

Sterling purses his lips and nods. “I guess I understand.” He smirks. “He has claws, be careful.”

His words make me chuckle. “I figured as much.”

I leave the small group and walk towards the buffet, grabbing a plate and putting some pieces of food onto it before I approach the young man. He looks to be the same age as Mateo and Sterling.

“Hello,” I say.

The young man startles, raising his eyes to look at me. He looks surprised first, then nervous, before a new expression spreads over his face. Defiance? Curiosity? It’s hard to tell, but very intriguing. Sterling was scared it would shatter my illusion to see him or talk to him, but in fact, seeing his face makes me even more curious. “You are the young man from Sterling’s paintings.”

The guy gapes, his face turning red like an overripe tomato. “How could you tell? Ster never shows my face!”

“He caught your core,” I say. The core of his soul.

“So, you know me already?” he asks defiantly.

“Not at all,” I say. “I just recognized the man on the bathtub and the man at the beach. I have no idea who you really are.”

Though something does strike me as odd, have I seen the man somewhere before?

At that, he blinks. “Noel,” he finally says. “That’s my name.”

“Aden.”

“I know,” he says. “See, I know something too.”

“Are you interested in art?”