"Oh, where'd you get this piece?"

Derek glanced up from his phone, seeing his friend look at the painting on the wall.

Ah.

He got that at the art gala.

Something about it spoke to him.

It was a small shop lit in wonderful bright hues, surrounded by the large cityscape that was in full shades of black and grey. White lights peeked from buildings and off reflected windows, creating a stunning piece.

His friend in question was a guy around his age, who had actually gotten married ten years back in his twenties. A country boy from his home town.

Sandy blond hair, freckles all over and warm honey brown eyes.

Good ol' John Newt.

"At the art gala I went to. I honestly can't remember who the artist is."

His friend looked at him skeptically, "can you remember any of that night?"

"Of course!" Derek assured. "Just not much."

John sighed heavily, "did you pick up another girl?"

"No! I didn't even go all the way with this guy. It was his first time so we didn't do anything."

John was about to ridicule his friend when he picked up on the pronouns, "he?"

Shit.

"I think I'm bisexual."

"It's a weird time to realize that," John said, carefully, as to not be rude.

"I know. Recently, I saw this coffee barista and he was the cutest thing I've ever seen and I thought I was just admiring like straight men do, thinking I thought he was an interesting person. Then the gala happened and I fall into bed with another man."

"You didn't go all the way though," he reminded his friend.

Derek shrugged, "I still wanted to sleep with him after getting him naked. We just never went that far."

John took that in and just decided to roll with it, "did you get his number?"

"Oh, no. He was gone when I woke up. There was money for the room and a note saying goodbye," Derek admitted.

"Just gone, didn't say anything?"

"He never had sex before and was scared to have it since he was afraid he would be to drink to remember. My guess is he forgot and panicked when he woke up. I'd freak out too."

"Alright, that's fair." He looked at the painting again, "well, if he was at the gala, maybe you'll meet him again."

Derek chuckled, "maybe. I'm not going to lose my mind over it if I don't."

John didn't look like he believed him, but he accepted the answer as it was. His friend wasn't going to be honest anytime soon.

"What did you come to talk about by the way?"

The question reminded John why he was there, "ah. Ellen and I are expecting."

"Really, that's great! Congrats!" Derek cheered.

His friend smiled at that, "thank you. Along with that... we actually plan to move back home. Well, closer to home."

The smile melted right off Derek's face, "you're leaving New York."

"You know better than anyone that raising kids in New York isn't the safest idea. Not with my wife's background."

"I-" he was right. "When do you plan on leaving?"

"In a few months, we wanted to tell you first."

"Have you found work there yet?"

"Not yet," John admitted.

"I have a branch opening there soon... if you'd like a position. Your wife as well!"

"Derek, you don't have to do that."

"Obviously I don't have to, but you're my friend, I want to support you, like you've always supported me."

John pondered it, "can I get back to you on the offer?"

Derek nodded, getting up to move to his friend. "Take all the time you need. I'll still be here to support you no matter what."

The two smiled before hugging each other, staying close. When John moves away, it will be weird for the both of them, but even the distance wouldn't ruin their bond.

Jason was actually talking to his own best friend at his apartment.

Said best friend was their sister's ex-boyfriend, but they were still best friends.

He was the most straight guy he'd ever met who also did not give a fuck about gender norms. Case in point, his painted nails, handmade, dark blue, floral romper, and his fucking boots. He was a mess. Curly brown hair, skin that simply danced in sunlight, and eyes like the moon at night.

Beautiful guy.

Said beautiful guy was staring at the collection of paintings around the room.

"These are fucking good, you paint them recently?" He asked.

"No Ethan, I painted them a month ago."

"Ha ha ha, either way, they're stunning."

Jason smiled a bit, sitting back on his couch, "the entire gala was a beautiful blur. Shame I can't remember much of it."

Ethan snickered, "that drunk, huh?" He looked back at the paintings, "so did you just make up a story about two strangers you saw?"

"No. That's my fuzzy recollection of the gala."

"That makes zero-" it took him a second as he glanced from the individual paintings, then back to his friend. "Oh my god, you got laid!"

"I think I did," Jason corrected.

"I left before the other guy woke up."

Ethan looked at the painting of the morning after again, taking in the whole thing. "He's a older guy, if we're going by your painting."

"How the fuck would you know that?"

"Bodies age. And while this man looks fine I guess, he has slight wrinkles among his hands, his back. They aren't noticeable but you clearly detailed he was older."

"You are the gayest, straight guy I know that works in crime."

Ethan chuckled again, "thanks. Besides, you noticed he was older, you just can't recall the memory. Didn't catch you as the type."

"Me neither. All my ex boyfriends are my age."

"Let's be honest though," Ethan started. "He probably isn't that much older."

"It's not the end of the word either way, it's unlikely I'll ever see him again."

"Aw, no overly romantic montage of you two yearning for each other, only to meet once more to profess your love at another gala?"

"Again," Jason muttered. "Gayest straight guy."

He just laughed again, "since you don't have that guys number, I'm guessing you won't have a plus one by my wedding?"

"Who knows, maybe I'll meet someone else."

"I'll leave it open, so you can bring one and you don't. It just kicks your sister from the table."

"Why did you invite her?"

He shrugged, "we're still friends. She's just not my best man or family."

"Still can't believe you roped me into that role."

Ethan went to sit besides Jason, ruffling his hair as he sat, "there is no better man than you. You're a good kid."

"I'm also not a kid."

"Seriously though. You're amazing. You art is gonna be famous."

"You're just saying that."

"I'm being serious."

Jason thought about his art. It made him... fell things he never felt before he he put that brush to his canvas. When the pen hit paper, pencil skated across his pieces. The way charcoal would almost melt in his hand, but create monochrome masterpieces.

He liked all forms of art, abstract, realist, surrealist, statues, contemporary, etc. he liked putting his hands on his work, and he liked the outcome of his undivided mind.

When he worked, they were one and until he finished, he was unable to think of anything else.

Which was both a gift and a massive safety hazard.

He drank paint water more times than he'd ever care to admit.

Maybe that starlight was coming for him, but that wasn't what he was worried about.

Right now, he was with his friend.

"Thank you. But onto the real point, what's the color theme?"

"You dumbass."