A.N.
So here it is, a sequel to Photo Finish.
Mainly written because I do my A level exams next week and I am doing everything in my power not to study.
And because I got upset because my iPod got stolen. But now I have a new one, yay.
Reviews would be very nice :)
Disclaimer: Do not own.
Matt
I sat at the end of the catwalk, camera clutched tightly in my hands as I fixed a lens into place, trying to avoid being bumped by the numerous people milling about. After my last three cameras had been knocked out of my hands in Paris I knew that I couldn't afford to buy another for at least two months without this shoot. And no camera equals no shoot. I clung tighter as two loud mouthed Italian woman shoved their way past me with a scowl of disdain and an insult thrown my way in Italian.
The weather was bad enough, burning every inch of my fair skin it could but these snooty 'fashionistas' I found in every damn big city who absolutely must go to the show that Mello's in were seriously grating on my nerves. They had no reason to be so rude towards me. But they didn't care. They paid the three hundred Euro entrance fee and they expected to be treated like royalty for forking out, because the holier than thou attitude was going to land them a rich husband who could treat them right. Clearly.
Screwing the camera onto the tripod, I adjusted it so the lens could clearly see who would be coming down the runway, leaving me to do nothing more than to sit back and press the shutter. Leaning back in the rigid plastic chair, I waited as the lights went down leaving two strips of lights glowing softly along the edges of the runway.
I watched as model after model strutted down the runway, each face carefully emotionless as I snapped the shots of bizarre clothing. How sequined piece of fabric with some tassels is considered fashion I would never know. But it wasn't my job to question Anita's designs and I was aware of just how popular her clothing was, but that didn't make my knowledge of it any easier.
The lights above the stage brightened with intensity as Mello rounded the wing as made his way onstage, much to the pleasure of the crowd who began hollering and whooping. His hips swayed with careful precision as he made his way to the end, completely blanking me. His face was as carefully masked as the rest of the models. It's not their place to smile. It draws attention away from the clothing. Though I noticed his jaw tightening and his eyes grow slightly wider in the split second it took him to turn on his heel and strut backstage to change outfits, treating the crowd to a glorious view of his backside in the tightest pants I have ever seen.
Numerous costume changes later and more of the worlds tightest pants the show came to an end. The lights shut off and the normal seventy five watt bulbs flickered back into life to the pleasure of the gossiping crowd. I packed my equipment together and dashed backstage, ignoring the bouncer who raised an eyebrow as I quickly flashed my ID.
Dashing down the corridor I easily found Mello's room, not bothering to knock, I simply flung the door open and barged inside, putting my bag down, shutting the heavy door behind me.
"You didn't tell her did you?"
Mello didn't say anything, clutching his palm to the scarred side of his face to calm down the angry burn. I moved his hand, gently touching the burn. It felt hot to the touch, and the angry red colour it had turned made it obvious how irritated it was.
I grabbed the small bottle of lotion from the table and squirted it into my palm, gently rubbing it onto the marred skin to soothe it. "Those lights are too hot for you. Just tell Anita and she'll put in a lower watt that won't hurt you."
"I'm fine." Mello muttered. His voice was gruff from not speaking for the last couple of hours and the last syllable crackled in his throat.
"No you're not. You're in pain." I poked his shoulder gently. "Are you going to be such an ass when I marry you?"
Mello shook his head. "No, I plan to enhance my assness, like a good husband and slowly drive you insane, starting by banning all gaming consoles from our flat."
"…Mello, I'm sorry, I'm afraid it's over." I teased.
He rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue in a childish manner, arms folded firmly across tanned chest. Milan had been good to him, but apparently it hates gingers. Who knew? "Back home tomorrow." He yawned. It was about time, Anita's contract had him travelling the globe from London, Paris, Milan, Sydney, New York, Tokyo and others that got lost in the travelling.
After a year constantly moving around the globe, it would be good to finally get back to our twisted version of normality.