"Draw me."

Confused the red headed teen look up at the blonde menace who's terrorized him for the better part of the last three years. The now eighteen-year-old artist gave her a look and went back to his sketchbook. Apparently, deciding to ignore her wasn't the way to go…

"I know you heard me Kurtzberg."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why, in all of Paris, would I draw you?"

"You've drawn just about everyone else. I want a portrait too."

"I tend to draw the people I like…"

"I could pay you, it could be a commission."

Looking back up at her, he thinks about this. It would be nice to have some extra pocket money to get more supplies… Then a thought pops into his head, he would have to be in a room with her for a couple of hours. Not gonna happen. Definitely not gonna have her criticizing him in his free time as well.

"No Chloé."

"Oh, okay then…" She then says, visibly deflating.

Before he could say anything else she was gone. Her reaction to him telling her no was different, off… Something wasn't right, but at that point there wasn't anything he could do. She had already gone and he didn't know where she lived now. With resolution to find out her issue tomorrow he packed up his things and headed home.

The next day the look for the blonde woman was on. Two years ago, she had a turning point, something in her changed and everyone saw a better Chloé Bourgeois; Well, everyone but him. It appeared the nicer she started to be to everyone else, the worse she was to him and he could never figure out why. It wasn't that she was being her bitchy self, because she had begun to prove that she wasn't like that anymore. It was strange, but yesterday, yesterday was different. He could tell. After all these years he knew her better than anyone else, and wasn't afraid to admit it. So now, after the shortest conversation he ever remembers them having, he's out looking for her.

After a few hours of searching, he slowly walks through the park. Out of options he thinks to himself that maybe he doesn't know her as well as he thinks he does. Turning to go home, he hears it. The tiniest whimper, he makes a decision and turns in that direction instead. If it isn't her, he'll go home. Creeping closer he sees her on the phone with someone, probably Sabrina. She's in distress, he can tell, but doesn't interrupt her conversation. Not yet. He can hear her half and muffled words coming from the other end.

"It's just, I don't know!... I can't- You know I can't!... Wouldn't accept that, I've been terrible to him… I don't know why I asked… I'll just forget about it, I'm not worth it anyway…"

Nathanaël crumbled at her words. Had he done this? Is there something he could have done? Have these last few years been a cry for help? He doesn't know. Quickly deciding what to do, he steps forward and grabs her attention.

"Chloé?" The no longer timid man asks as he comes closer.

Knowing him from his voice, he can see her stiffen and cut her phone conversation short. Taking a moment to collect herself she finally turns to him. She doesn't speak but he knows that she knows he must have heard. Not knowing exactly how to get through to her, he says the only thing that comes to mind.

"I'll draw you. If, you still want me to."

"I thought you only drew people you liked." She said with bitterness.

"I also draw what inspires me. Today, that's you. So, if you still want me to, I will."

The only acknowledgement she gave to his words was a small nod. He was looking for more than that but it didn't seem like he was gonna get more than that. Catching her attention, he asks,

"When are you free?"

"Um… now. If, that's not a problem." She responds not even looking at him.

"Is there anywhere in particular you'd like to be?"

"It doesn't matter. Wherever." She shrugs.

"Okay. Come on."

With a nod of his head, he leads her to his small studio down the street. It's not much, but it's his. They fall into a surprisingly comfortable silence as they walked. Within a few minutes they arrive at the place. He unlocks the door and holds it open for her. She walks in and looks around at his paintings and stops at the large mural of Paris on the opposite wall. Closing the door, he leans against it and watches her. After some time, she turns towards him and asks,

"Where do you want me?"

Not having to think about it, he leads her to the back behind a wall and up some stairs. The second floor of the studio is more beautiful than the first. Anyone who had been up here could tell that this was where he spent most of his time, making his art. His masterpieces. He leads her to his balcony, and sits her in a chair. Not needing much else, he sets up his supplies and begins to sketch.

The woman in question was sitting there watching him, a bemused expression on her face. He liked the look on her. Finishing her outline, he began to draw her details. Again, and again he erased and started anew but something bothered him. Looking closely at her face he could see she was wearing more make up than usual and he didn't like it.

"Chloé?"

"Yes?" She asks in a voice so small, he almost doubted it came from the normally outspoken female.

"Is there any way we could wash some of your make up off?" He asks warily, not wanting to upset her.

"Do I have to?" She replies in that same small voice.

"No. You don't have to, but I would prefer it. It's up to you."

After a few moments of thought, she nodded and he got up. Moving towards the back of the studio he checks in a cabinet. He knew there was wipes in there, he just had to find them… Once he did, the artist walked back to the heiress, pulling up another chair in front of her. Opening the container, he pulls out a wipe and holds it up, asking for permission. She agrees and he takes her chin in his hand.

Starting at her cheek, he softly wiped the wipe along her cheekbone. Carefully he moved the wipe along the rest her face until her natural beauty showed. Looking at the small details, he could see a small hint of a freckle along the bridge of her nose. He could also see the dark bags under her eyes and the light leave her eyes. He didn't like this either. Noticing that he's still holding her chin he gently swipes a thumb along her cheek and saw a slight flush grow where his digit had touched.

Satisfied with what he'd done he gave a small smile and released her face. He moved the chair out of the way and went back to his easel. Turning to his table next to him, he picked up his colored pencils and turned back to the subject of his canvas. She had removed the elastic from her hair and was scratching her head where the ponytail had been. Entranced by a fresh-faced loose haired Chloé, he stopped.

His trance was broken when his pencil dropped to the floor. With his face rivaling the color of his hair he bent down to retrieve the pencil when he saw her arms raise.

"Don't." he says suddenly, shocking them both.

Her hands fell and she looked at him, eyebrow raised.

"What? Don't what?" She asks, some of her normal sass coming back.

"Don't put your hair back up… I-It looks nice down." He says averting his eyes, mad at himself for falling back to stuttering.

"Oh… that's all you had to say Tomato." She replies, a light blush dusting her features.

He'd never admit it, but her blushing face was the cutest thing he'd ever seen. Finally retrieving his pencil, he set to work drawing again. He noticed a small smile on her face as she looked out to the city. With a smile of his own this is how he captured her. It took some time, but he did. As he filled in the details with color, he realized that this is how he would see her from now on. Whenever he thought of her he would see her like this, see this piece. He can honestly say it is his best work yet. He just wasn't sure how that would affect him. How she would affect him from now on. He didn't know and it kind of scared him. He took out his phone and took a quick picture of his work before catching her attention.

"I'm done." He tells the woman waiting patiently on his balcony.

"Really?" She doesn't even try to hide her excitement as she moved over to the sketch.

Damn, he stood corrected. That, her excited face as she came closer to him was his favorite. He would never forget the light in her eyes and the joy on her face when she was excited. Soon enough she was at his side and he studied her. Her eyes were widened and her lips spread as a small gasp came through them.

"I-It's… you made… you made me beautiful…" She trailed off as shock stayed etched on her face.

"No."

"Huh? What do you mean?" Confused, she turned to him.

"I didn't make you anything. I just drew what was already there." He told her, looking back at his work.

"I…I can look l-like that?" She chokes out with disbelief.

"You do look like this. All the time, it's just usually covered."

Looking at the picture of herself again the blonde touched it, still not believing that he saw her that way.

"Can you do it again?"

"What?" His brows furrowing, confused at her sudden change in attitude.

"Can you do it again. Make this again?"

"Yes… Why?"

"I was wondering if you could paint it, with oils… so I could hang it on my wall, at home."

"I-I can…" He says looking at her curiously.

"How much?"

"How much what?"

"How much do you want for this one and the painting?"

He couldn't for the life of him figure out a way to answer that simple question intelligently. After a moment, he stopped took a breath, and look at her.

"I'll let you be the judge of that."

Turning away from her he moved to put his supplies away. His long hair fell into his face and it reminded him if lycee. Lost in thought he almost didn't feel the tap on his shoulder. Almost. Turning around he's much closer to the blonde than he was previously. Before he can say a word, she slides into his arms and hugs him. Frozen in shock he doesn't move. As quickly as it happened she was off him. She grabbed her bag and walked out of his studio throwing a thanks over her shoulder.