"To Capture Your Image As Well As Your Heart"
Chapter 1
Grantaire rolled his eyes, as the young blonde woman flounced out of the room. Bleached hair, manicured nails, heavy make-up…and this was at least the dozenth or so of the same type he had seen in the two hours he had been taking photos. This didn't even include the hour and a half of equipment setup and company registration, which had been conducted by a balding man, who looked as if he wished to be anywhere other than the third floor of the university's student center at 8:30 on a September morning.
He threw a look at Eponine, who shrugged her shoulders. "Private university girls, what do you expect?"
"I suppose." Photographing the senior class of a prestigious D.C. university may not be the most interesting thing, but it was a paycheck, so he had some freedom to do his own photography on the side.
Grantaire turned to straighten out the caps and gowns on the rack, when he heard a calm voice, "This is the room for the senior portraits, right?"
Eponine was just saying, "Yes, just come over here–" when Grantaire turned to see the new arrival.
"No!" Was the only word able to come out of his mouth for a moment, because the young man standing next to his friend, was by far, the most stunning person he has ever seen.
He could be a god. Ares or Zeus…no, Apollo, Grantaire's mind supplied. Apollo, the sun god, with his golden hair, sky blue eyes, and a face that glowed like the dawn. Yes, this young man could have been the god of light and music and truth. Absolutely. Grantaire's mind would have gone off on more Shakespearean level odes to the aura of this man, except that he realized that both Eponine and the man were staring in stark, possibly terrified, confusion.
After a moment of awkward silence, Grantaire shrugged in a way that was far too forced to be nonchalant. "'Ponine, isn't it time for you to take a break? I can take this nice, young man's picture."
The man looked confused, and Eponine looked at him like he had grown another head. Grantaire could see her thinking, We've been working together all day, 'Taire.
She opened her mouth to reply, but Grantaire quickly grabbed her shoulders, and ushered her out the door, rambling far too loudly about unions and labor regulations and minimum wage, which he realized had nothing to do with his argument, but he decided to ignore that fact.
"Please, sir, sit!" With a flourish, which was absolutely not full of nerves, Grantaire waved to his photo station, taking the young man's order form in the process.
Still apprehensive, the god sat down.
"Alright, Apollo, back straight, look at the top of the camera lens, and smile!" Grantaire's voice seemed far too loud and too excited to his ears. He could only hope that his golden-haired subject didn't notice.
"…A–Apollo?" The man asked
Goddamn, did he really say that out loud. "Apollo, Greek god of sun and music–"
"I know who Apollo is, but why in the world would you call me that?"
"Blonde curls, blue eyes…I assumed you would get it quite often." Grantaire was fairly certain that feigning innocence wasn't working.
"No, never…"
"Well, you should." Grantaire really hoped his grin wasn't too maniacal.
That finally elicited a small, if very confused, smile. "Not many people I know make classical allusions in everyday conversation."
"What? At this fancy, expensive university of yours? That should be a crime."
The god laughed in earnest this time. And oh dear, if that didn't make him even more lovely…
After the laughter faded and silence fell for a long moment, Grantaire nearly whispered, "Okay, let's do this."
The Apollo sat up. With such posture, the godliness was even more palpable.
"Smile."
A prim smile crossed his face.
"Oh come now, let's see some teeth."
The young man grinned uncomfortably.
Grantaire's eyes grew wide. "…Without looking insane preferably…"
Golden hair fell into his face, as he ducked his head. "Sorry," he shook hair out of his eyes, "I hate getting my photo taken."
What? Someone so gorgeous as you? That is an outrage! He plastered a huge, cocky grin across his face, "Ah, you see, that's because you haven't your photo taken by me."
Apollo raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Twenty-one years of family and three professional photographers haven't succeeded. Are you really so confident?"
"Dear Apollo, Orestes, and Nisus!" Grantaire swept to the camera, "I am phenomenally talented," he said in complete seriousness.
The young man on the chair erupted into laughter that lit his face.
Grantaire snapped a photo.
At the sound of the click and the flash of lights, the young man looked up, surprised.
Grantaire peeked at the preview photo, "Breathtaking." And, it was. His shining curls fell around his face, soft around the stunning lines of his jaw and cheekbones. The grin made his eyes crinkle, and everything warmed his face, so he became not just the god of the sun, but the sun itself.
"You couldn't use that, though." The man defended.
"Yes, but instead of that terrifying face, just do that. Think of me acting ridiculous and smile."
He did, and well, if he was trying to stop Grantaire from falling in love with him, he was failing pretty miserably.
Once he relaxed, Apollo was a lovely subject, obeying each of Grantaire's instructions to sit at this angle or that, tilt the chin up or down, lean forwards or back. And, with each shot, Grantaire couldn't help but think of taking this young man out, taking his photo on the Lincoln Memorial, with the glow of the sunrise illuminating his hair like a halo, shots under a streetlamp that cast brooding shadows across his face, or in a studio with proper lighting that really made his eyes sparkle, that would catch the light blush on his marble cheeks, where he and Grantaire would be alone, and could…'Taire do not let your mind wander too far in any direction, but especially not that one.
"Let's try on the cap and gown."
He helped his Apollo into the long, black robe, and handed him a mock diploma and rose. Really, everything started completely innocently. As the man sat down, Grantaire reached out, brushing a few flyaway hairs from his face, just so they wouldn't ruin the picture. He fussed to get an errant curl to lay correctly, and somehow, he lost control of his cursed hands. Without his strict permission, his fingers found their way to the golden man's chin, tilting it up slightly. He froze when he realized his hand acting without his knowledge. For a long second, he stared into those bright blue eyes, and he wasn't sure he remembered how to breathe. Blue eyes like pools of water, where he would happily drown, if just to gaze on them for a moment longer.
He snapped back. "Hold your chin at that angle, please." Professionalism was forced to cover his words. When he looked up from the camera to see Eponine, back from her imposed break, standing in the doorway with a raised eyebrow. In what may have been an awkwardly high-pitched voice, which he really hoped didn't sound as frantic as it was, he said, "Well, that would be it, I think. You'll get proofs in a couple weeks. Lovely, working with you."
The god smiled on his devotee. "Thanks, it was…nice."
"I–uh–um–my card." Grantaire fumbled to pull his business card from his jacket pocket. He offered it to the man, who looked a little confused. "Call me when you get the photos…to see–uh…if you like them. I'd like the feedback."
The other man smiled, "Okay."
When he had left the room, Grantaire found himself nearly hyperventilating. Eponine gently pushed him to sit in the chair.
"The hell was that?"
"I–I–I don't even…"
"That is in no way normal protocol."
"I know, but–"
"But, he's cute, I get it."
"He's a god." Grantaire breathed.
"Okay, so did you get his number?" She asked, suddenly businesslike.
"Well, no–"
"Name, then? For Facebook."
"I–well…"
"Goddammit, 'Taire!"
"Sorry, I didn't know how to even bring such a thing up!" He held up his hands, as if seeking absolution.
"Wait! I know exactly how to fix this!"
"How?" Grantaire jumped up.
Eponine pulled the top card from the pile, where they kept all the paperwork and waved it like a flag. "This, dear Grantaire, has his name, phone number, permanent address, and dorm address. Everything you need!"
"Oh god, 'Ponine, no!" He covered his face in his hands. "That's too much like a stalker, even for me!"
"What? You failed doing everything on your own! It's called resourcefulness."
"Eponine Thénardier, no." He said, with finality.
"Ugh fine!" She sauntered back to the stack of papers. She glanced back at Grantaire, "You're sure?"
"Yes."
She was about to put it down, when Grantaire leaped forward.
"Well, maybe just his name!" He stepped forward then froze.
Eponine grinned and looked at the card, "Enjolras Fortier."