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Catarina came by the next day to help Magnus decide. He had narrowed the choices down to six of his best works, adding the painting he'd done the previous day to the line up. He fought his growing reservations about it. In his mind, it wasn't as visually impressive, lacking the technical skill and refinement of the others, but it had life to it. Raw and pure and magnetic. He went back and forth between leaving it in and taking it out, ultimately deciding, in the end, to keep it in.

The decision process took less time than Magnus had anticipated, with Catarina settling exactly on the one he hoped she wouldn't. Magnus protested against it, his reservations resurfacing, but his efforts to dissuade her were a waste of time.

Once Catarina made up her mind about something, she was immovable. Magnus dropped the argument, knowing full well he'd have an easier time getting a parakeet to juggle.

Trusting her judgement was the less difficult route to take, besides, he did put the damn thing in the line up for consideration after all, so it was fair. And he did say, as long as he was the one who titled it, he promised that he'd go along with it.

"You ask me to help you and then get all catty when I do exactly that. I don't get it." Catarina rubbed her brows in fustration for the hundredth time that day. Magnus let out an exasperated breath, also for the hundredth time.

"I just don't think it's as good as the others, that's all."

"Why make it an option then?" Magnus ran a hand through his hair as Catarina held a steady gaze on him, waiting for an answer.

"I don't know, there's just... something about it." Magnus rubbed the back of his neck, "I don't know what I was thinking. I should've left it out."

Catarina shook her head, " I think that's exactly why you should send that one in. Like you said, there's just something about it. I felt that too."

"Having 'something about it', isn't gonna help me get accepted." He said, adding air quotes for emphasis.

"Good God almighty, Magnus. Have some faith." Catarina grabbed the painting, carefully binding it with plastic wrap and placing it in a cardboard box. She placed a manilla folder, with all the required paperwork, on top.
"Where's all this self doubt coming from anyway?"

"You can blame the Hell spawn I call a father for that. You know how he is. Nothing I do is ever good enough for him." The look Catarina expressed was one of pure sympathy. She walked over and pulled him into a hug.

"Your dad's had that stick up his ass ever since we were kids. Screw 'im. You don't need his approval. You'll always be good enough for me. " She pulled away and saw Magnus smile. He tried his best to seem sincere, even though his eyes told a different story. They always did, like a chink in a suit of armor or a crack in a wall. Catarina always saw through it. "You know, if you're gonna keep that dark cloud of despair hanging around your head, you might as well start charging it rent."

Magnus barked out a laugh, bringing the spark back into his eyes. She smiled and gave him a peck on the cheek. Gathering up her things, including Magnus's submission, she headed out, leaving him with some final words of encouragement.

The only thing Magnus could do now was hope for a miracle.

****

The day the letter came in, Magnus's world went silent. The colorful soundscape of Brooklyn, with its wailing sirens, staccato car horns, beats of distant music, and hum of a thousand conversations, all fell away as his eyes scanned the paper in his hands. Over and over.

He didn't remember calling Catarina, yet here she was, showering him with congratulations, gesturing wildly with enthusiasm. Magnus barely acknowledged her, his vision tunneling around the words on the page.

On behalf of The New York Committee of Art...

We would like to congratulate you...

You are cordially invited...

Catarina's calls fell on deaf ears. A light hand on his shoulder the only thing snapping Magnus's world back into focus. The familiar sounds of the city, a constant presence in his life, once a comfort, came surging back, loud and unsettling.

"Magnus? Are you okay?" Catarina asked, concern furrowing her brow. Magnus looked at her, anxiety swirling in the brown of his irises.

"Y-yeah... I think so. I don't know..." Catarina studied him for a moment.

"You really didn't believe you'd get in did you?" She said. Magnus shook his head. Carefully, she took the letter from Magnus's hands, took him by the arm and led him out the door.

"Where are we going?" Magnus asked, still partially in a daze.

"Shopping, of course." Magnus's ears perked up. "You need a distraction. Besides, if you're gonna be a world famous artist," She said, pushing him into the elevator, "you're gonna have to start dressing like one."

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