**

"My name is Katie," the little girl says, looking up at Sebastian in her seated position on the ground.

"Katie? That's a pretty name," Sebastian smiles, slowly sitting down across from her. "I'm Sebastian."

"Sebastian," Katie repeats with her lisp, making it almost sound like The-bath-an.

"Yeah," Sebastian laughs at her pronunciation.

I back up against the wall to avoid the possibility of getting caught; that is the last thing I want to happen right now, because the emptiness of the room with these two human beings inside of it is more fulfilling than the crowd of people we were with an hour ago.

There are no tables in the area they are at; they are all pushed to the edges of the room, probably for an event they had a while ago. So Katie and Sebastian sit on the ground, Katie's hospital grown consuming her small body in its pale shades of pastel blue and white. With eyes the color of creamed coffee, a much brighter shade than my dark brown eyes, she stares at Sebastian and shifts side to side excitedly, like she is eager to ask something more.

"Why are you here by yourself, Katie?" Sebastian asks

"Because it's quiet," she answers.

"You don't like...painting with the kids in the fun room?"

She shakes her head.

"Why not?"

"I like being by myself," she rubs her small hands back and forth on her gown. "It's fun."

"Yeah, I feel you on that."

It's quiet for a moment. I take a sip of my coffee and wait for a response.

"Are you...allowed to be in here alone?"

Katie shrugs, "I come in here when I feel better some days, so I guess it's okay."

Sebastian nods slowly, knowing that the subject will be one not to visit again, and lets a reassuring smile come across his face.

"Do you wanna draw with me?" Katie suddenly asks.

"Um...sure," Sebastian chuckles. "We can always go back and draw in your room with the nurses?"

Katie gets up and walks to a corner. When she comes back, there is a small beat up pink box, decorated with stickers and glitter in her hand. Sebastian laughs at her preparedness.

"No. I'd rather draw here. See? I already have my things," she says as she sits down and opens the box, filled with old colored pencils, crayons and blank pieces of paper. When Sebastian reaches for a sheet, she smiles widely and takes one for herself.

"What are you going to draw?" he asks.

"You!" she exclaims with excitement in her voice. The first thing she does is reach for a light green crayon, and while squinting her eyes, begins to draw two big green circles on the paper.

"These are your eyes," she explains.

"Yeah, I kind of guessed that," he chuckles.

Then it is silent, minus Katie's giggling when she finishes a piece of her artistic accomplishment in progress. Eventually she lays on her stomach and kicks her feet as she continues to draw her new companion. Sebastian doesn't say anything, not even when she looks up at him for reference to her drawing. He just stares at the colors scribbled onto the paper.

"Done!" she finally says when she drops the red crayon in her hand. She holds up the paper, and Sebastian laughs at the adorable drawing.

"Wow, this is awesome!" He says, taking the paper and marveling at the messy brown lines for hair and the long red c-shape on his face that is supposed to be his grin. I can't help but smile myself; it's definitely better than anything I can do.

"You really like it?"

Sebastian nods, "Definitely. Can I keep it?"

"Mhm!" she takes the paper, "lemme write my name on the back."

Grabbing a blue colored pencil, Katie carefully signs her masterpiece in big letters. Her tongue sticks out of her mouth in concentration, making sure every letter is written legibly.

She gives Sebastian the paper, in which he looks at the portrait of himself again.

"I'm going to frame this the first chance I get," he tells her surely. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she suddenly pulls out a piece of paper and a crayon. "Now it's your turn!"

Sebastian is overcome with surprise, "T-turn for what?"

"To draw me!" Katie sits up in a crossed-legged position and flashes the brightest smile she can muster, but that does little to remove the look of reluctance and oddness on Sebastian's face. The crayon and paper sit in front of him, and he just stares at it, like it's forbidden or riddled with a horrible memory.

When the silence is uncomfortable, Katie scoots the materials closer to Sebastian and snaps him out of whatever trance he was in. Her smile is almost gone now; she sees what I see.

"Um...I d-don't think that's a good idea. I can't draw very well."

Katie laughs, "I think you can if you try!"

"I don't know."

"Please?" she says softly, and in an attempt to persuade him, pulls out more crayons, mostly the color of her hair, skin, eyes and gown. Sebastian bites his lip, his green eyes filled with an emotion I can't pin-point; it's a mixture of many.

He taps his hand on the floor before gently taking a regular lead pencil from the box and putting the rest of the crayons Katie picked out back.

He breathes shakily, "Alright. I'll try."

"Yay!" Katie squeals with a clap of her hands.

"Make sure to sit still."

"Okay."

Katie giggles to herself, holding her hands on her lap in the awaited time frame that Sebastian uses to look at her. Unfortunately, every time I think of Sebastian doing anything remotely artistic I think of the Fair incident, drawing a "rocket ship" on a boy that looked like something else. But now, with bits and pieces of what I thought he was and what I personally think he is, I somehow think there is going to be a different outcome; it's all in his eyes.

He squints his eyes, like Katie did, and she suppresses an anxious smile. Sebastian smiles, too, yet it isn't real, but only to match Katie's behavior.

At first, it's only rapid movements of the pencil on the paper, creating shapes and lines all over the place. I notice how he draws--only moving his wrist, lightly tracing the lines he wants without any detail and using an abundance of c-shapes. He's done this before--numerous times.

I furrow my brows. What good does flinging lines all over the place do? Where are the eyes? The mouth? I mean, I know absolutely nothing about drawing but what he's doing doesn't make any sense, and Katie, from her facial expression, thinks the same thing.

"What are you doing?" she asks, tilting her head.

"Don't move," he says teasingly, and Katie quickly regains her posture and laughs a little again.

Eventually, Sebastian starts drawing the eyes, nose and mouth, but still it isn't anything that is detailed or remotely distinguishable, just quick movements and pencil marks.

Until he starts adding detail.

The minute he starts shading, erasing and adding the little necessary marks it all starts to come to life, and I mean literally come to life. I see more of Katie on the paper than I did before, and so does she, because her eyes widen when she sees a lead-drawn version of herself that is nearly perfect.

Holy Mother of God.

The pride and liveliness in Sebastian exudes and fills the room when he gets closer and closer to finishing the sketch. And despite Sebastian's apparent smile on his face, my mouth is dry from how long I've had it open in shock.

This drawing looks real.

The minute the pencil touched the paper I knew something was completely different. I see it, and I feel it, and it practically hits me in the face, how blunt the difference is. And I immediately realize what I have been missing all along--a discovery that slowly reveals itself in its glowing glory as Sebastian started to sketch. The way he holds his pencil, the way his hand moves, even the way he looks at her, is nothing I've ever seen in him before. Why?

Because this must be who he is.

It clicks in my brain, making me feel like the most foolish of fools. How can I, someone who insists on painting the bigger picture, miss the sketches that make up the foundation? The logical explanation for this, for all of this, must be that this isn't him--the Playboy life, filled with drugs and sex and money and partying isn't him, but what he has built around him to ensure that no one would get in to see the Sebastian he really is--the Sebastian that has drawn the most incredible sketch I have ever seen, the Sebastian that insists art programs in school systems are essential to a child's education, the Sebastian who disapproved the separation of a mother and a child at the farm, and even the Sebastian who cries himself to sleep. When I think of all he is hiding from the world, it's no falsity that he must be miserable, living this fake life for as long as he has. I lean against the wall and sigh at the reality:

I've been sprinkling glitter on a broken vase instead of trying to glue it back together again.

"WOAH!" Katie yells once Sebastian hands her the finished product of shadows, midtones and shades of black and light gray.

"Do you like it?" Sebastian asks her. His voice is uncertain, almost like he's sure she doesn't like the result. But the way she runs and hugs him tightly says otherwise.

"It looks just like me!" says Katie when she lets go of him. "Can I keep it?"

"Yeah, it's yours," Sebastian laughs.

Happily, Katie gives him a blue crayon.

"What's this for?" He asks.

"Write your name on the back!"

The evidence of glee soon dissipates. Sebastian looks down at his fingers, then declines kindly.

"Well how are people going to know you made it?" asks Katie, with a confused expression that shifts from the drawing back onto Sebastian.

He laughs lowly, almost sounding like quick exhales of breath, and shrugs.

"I guess they won't," he finally replies.

**

"Sarah...SARAH!"

Sarah quickly turns around at the sound of me whispering her name as quietly yet menacingly as I can. After leaving Katie and Sebastian alone, I have a sudden urge to tell someone about what I just saw in hopes they would actually believe me, knowing who I'm talking about. "Well look who finally decided to come back from their 'vending machine run,'" she rolls her eyes. "Where the hell were you? You were gone for like, fifteen min--"

"You never told me Sebastian could draw!"

Sarah frowns, even harder at the smile on my face at my newfound discovery. She keeps frowning until my smile is gone.

"Leslie...what are you talking about?"

"Sebastian," I say slowly, like that will help her understand. "He can draw. Extremely good, like...very very good. So good, it looks real."

There's a stretch of silence before Sarah bursts into cackling laughter, laughter so loud it draws a few of the nurses' attention for a brief second until they turn back to the children.

"What's so funny?" I ask sternly when Sarah pretends to wipe the tears away from her eyes

"Leslie, did you put something stronger than caffeine in that drink of yours?"

"Wh-what? No!" I cap off my coffee and place it in my purse. "Why would you think that?"

"Because you and I both know that Sebastian can't draw a stick figure to save his life. Did you see the sun he painted with Emilio an hour ago? Why are you suddenly so adamant that he's Picasso?"

"Because it's all fake!" I yell, and immediately the entire room is dead quiet. The kids stare at us with feared expressions and the nurses look at us with disapproving eyes. Sarah doesn't even recognize me anymore from the way she stares at me.

Curse my loud vocal cords.

"What's...going on?"

Sarah and I ignore the prying eyes and turn to Lucas approaching us. His arms are crossed, face oddly placid, most likely for the people around us.

I nod for them to follow me out the room. Sarah apologizes to everyone, gives Lucas an annoyed look, and exits the room before I. We all walk to the elevator, and they both sit quiet until I speak.

"This whole thing, this whole...'menace to society' act, it's all fake," I explain as best as I can. "I've given it a lot of thought, and it just seems like the best, most logical explanation."

"Okay," Lucas replies. "Best explanation for what, exactly?"

I tap my hands on the wall nervously. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to mention this to them, the more I think about it--honestly speaking, if these two knew about Sebastian's identity crisis...theory, they, a, would not be confused after the stillness of the last few days, and b, would not be looking at me as if I'm crazy for proposing that Sebastian is not the Sebastian we know.

Sarah and Lucas wait for an answer, but I can't give them one. Either that, or I don't want to give them one. Maybe it's best if I don't express my theory to them; would that result in having to tell them about the bathroom incident?

"Well?" Sarah speaks up, irritated and inquisitive.

"Nothing. It's nothing. I don't know what I'm talking about it's just...I'm very stressed," I tell them, knowing well it's a lie.

Sarah rolls her eyes and slaps her hands on her thighs, "Well aren't we all," she snaps before she walks back into the 'fun room.' Lucas lingers for a while, trying to determine if I'm crazy or hiding something. Fortunately, with my convincing doe-eyed expression I'm known to do, he rules it off as "stress and a bit of insanity" and trails behind Sarah. And like clockwork, Sebastian turns the corner, hands in his sweater pockets, eyes back to their lifeless splendor. Only now the somber look in those said eyes hurts me with vicarious pain even harder, knowing that there is a soul begging to live beneath the gray mask he wears for the world.

And I'm going to find out why.

**

It is now 7:42 in the evening, rainy, and quiet in my hotel room. For some reason, I still smell the scent of hospital around me, no matter how many times I spray the air with freshener. And I hate it.

I've been meaning to be productive tonight, but I haven't...again. The 'Draw for Cause' went surprisingly well, but deep down I know that success will be overlooked by Sebastian's vulgar language at the airport earlier today.

I fucked up, didn't I?

You don't need to lie; I fucked up. I'm sorry.

I remember his apology in the parking garage of the hospital, vocalized with actual regret in his voice--the first time I've heard him apologizing sincerely for messing up his rep with the media. It makes me angry, feeling so involved and uninvolved at the same time; I can't do anything work related without stopping halfway from thinking too much about him.

With a frustrated breath, I jump off my bed, put my shoes on and take my key card, putting it in the back pocket of my jeans. I'm going to go talk to him and create the excuse of just speaking about the paparazzi fallout in order to do it. Is this just my own excuse to hear his voice again?

I open the front door, but jump back once I'm welcomed to a pair of familiar emerald eyes staring right at me, almost as surprised as I am.

"Hey," Sebastian greets, leaning against the door frame. His hair is damp and drawn back away from his face, glossy in the hallway light. He's also changed from his sweats into a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt that succeeds at accentuating his lean physique.

"Oh! H-hello," I reply. Somehow, chills race through my body, caused by the ringing silence and the intense stare-off we're giving each other right now. We know what we want to say, but we don't know if it's a good idea to say it.

"So," he looks into my room and bites his bottom lip before meeting my eyes coolly, making me shiver. "Can I come in?"

**