"I can't believe you guys showed up," Hunter said, greeting Charlie and Tyler at the Cultural Center.

"I can't believe you didn't tell us about it," Charlie said.

"Well... you've both been busy... "

"Never too busy for you, dude," Tyler said.

"And it's not that big of a deal. It's only a small showing for all the City College Art Programs."

"That is a big deal!" Charlie said. "Come on, how many people from your class got their assignments chosen to be exhibited for the end of the term?"

"Just me," Hunter said sheepishly.

"See... huge deal."

*

Tyler wandered around the Cultural Center, admiring the art work in the gallery as a jazz band played in the foyer. This is the City he'd moved to, this is why it couldn't compare to Strongsville. One could lose oneself in the beauty of a big city, something new around corner, not like a...

"Small town, huh?" The hairs on the back of Tyler's neck bristled at the familiar voice. He cautiously turned.

"Andy, what are you doing here?"

"I'm teaching a semester of art next fall, thought I'd check out how kids getting their gen eds and going to vocational school express themselves through art."

"Ah. Well, I should get... "

Andy stopped Tyler from running off. "You look good."

*

Fitz roamed the gallery trying to find Hunter. He stopped in front of a charcoal sketch: a forlorn Asian American man looking distantly out a window. It was Charlie.

"Doesn't it speak volumes?" said a middle aged man behind Fitz. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I'm just so proud, this artist is one of my best students."

"Oh, you're Hunter's teacher? I'm Fitz. Caleb. Fitzgerald. Fitz Everyone calls me Fitz."

"A pleasure. What do you think of the piece?"

"Oh I don't know from art. I'm not... the type, I guess."

"Surely you must feel something."

Fitz studied it for a moment. "Well... it's a good likeness. It looks exactly like Charlie."

"It's more than that. Look how Hunter caught the exact tone of melancholy in the eyes. The tension in the subject's hand as he presses it against the window. I tell you, I've seen a lot of sketches in my day, beautifully executed, sure, but this one... I feel as if it almost has a soul of it's own."

"He's good!" Fitz beamed with pride.

"Usually I'd say it's because the subject was so intriguing. But again, it's in the negative space... it's apparent that Hunter feels something for the subject. Whether he knows it, deep down inside, there is passion and feeling there."

Fitz stood there in front of the piece, studying it, trying to see what this artsy fartsy type saw that he wasn't. He saw none of what Hunter's teacher said. Maybe therein lay the problem. He glanced around the room again and saw Hunter and Charlie by the jazz band. Smiling, laughing. They fit so perfectly in this scene, something that Hunter would probably do more of. Which meant that Fitz would have to go to show his support. Fitz looked at them from a far: they just fit so perfectly together.

*

Charlie looked down and saw Ben's number flashing on his screen, which was odd since Ben was supposed to be at work.

"Sorry, I have to take this."

"Don't worry about it. I've got to find Fitz anyway."

"Hello?" Charlie asked as Hunter searched the crowd.

"It's about Doctors Without Borders... "

"They were able to replace you? You'll be able to stay?"

"No," Ben said. "They've placed me. I leave for Africa on Monday."

###