`if i let you love me.

[easton]

hungover. that one word would accurately describe easton royce aldrich - eighteen year old model in training- at the moment. he had to stop partying, it would fuck up his chances. no one wanted a model with bloodshot eyes and bags. the industry wanted perfection. he was tall, and lean with muscle. he had a clear, pale complexion. a straight nose, pouty lips, prominent cheek bones and gorgeous eyes. he was a natural; or so he told himself. there were a lot of people that tried to bring him down. there was constant competition and east knew the second he slipped up or felt that he was not good enough, someone would take advantage of that moment of weakness and destroy him.

strolling the streets in skinny jeans, a white v neck and converse shoes, he headed towards the cafe. he needed some caffeine or else he would be dead for the rest of the day. all he could say was thank god it was sunday, a day of rest. entering the crowded cafe, he took off his aviators and stepped in line, impatiently running his fingers through his hair. he was an easily agitated young fellow, something he had to remember to keep in check. he could not act like a diva, even though he knew he was good enough to deserve royal treatment.

after ordering a small fat free, no sugar soy, milk latte, he sat down at a little table near the back. it was too bright outside and if he sat up in front, the sun would just be pouring itself on him. he preferred the dark corners. he was a loner. he had no friends because he viewed everyone as competition, but he was also an asshole to men and women alike. girls fawned over him and he made out with a few that he deemed worthy, but he never went any further, never pursued sex or a relationship. he did not want to be tied down - ever.

sipping his latte slowly, his eyes surveyed the scene before he just flopped his head down on the table, upon his rested arms. he closed his eyes and breathed softly, in and out, counting to himself. he had some anxiety issues and he was feeling overwhelmed at the moment due to all the people cramming themselves in the cafe to get some coffee. he hated crowds, but he loved to be the center of them; go figure. raising his head, he combed his fingers through his bangs, shading his eyes. bored, he tapped his fingers on the wooden table. his mind was blank, as was his stare. to any bystander, he probably looked incredibly odd.

tagged: arabella

[ruby3]

IN A WORLD FULL OF PEOPLE, YOU CAN LOSE SIGHT OF IT ALL

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darkness still inside you make you feel so small[/font][/center]

sunday. what was there to do on a sunday? there was no school. there was no photoshoot. and there was no catwalk or fashion show. arabella sighed, blowing her blonde bangs away from her ocean blue eyes. she stared up at the boring ceiling, and sighed once again. it was a sunday. she's supposed to be out with friends. or at least partying somewhere. but in this kind of industry, there wasn't such thing as friends. for all the other girls, this modelling gig is one big competion about who's prettier, who's richer, and who's better. if you get hired for a fashion show, that's something to brag about. if a magazine asked you to do a shoot for them, that's somethng you flaunt about. every single girl was also stabbing each other's back. one minute they're all nice and sweet to you, the next they'll steal your job position, your boss, and your boyfriend.

you always had to look after your own back. you can never trust anybody. they were all fake. all flaunting their daddy's money. arabella, on the other hand, raised herself. at the tender age of eleven, she was already working, raising her sick mother, and her useless father. she made her own money. her own fame, she did it by herself. she made her own name. no one else helped. she had worked hard for it. she never complained. never whined. never flaunted. never gloated. for someone who worked in the model industry, she would be the sweetest, nicest girl you will ever meet. she never stabbed anyone in the back. always offered a helping hand. ans never ever made fun of someone else like all the other girls.

she sighed, shaking her head. she got out of her chair, grabbed her purse and blackberry, and left the dorm. after a half an hour stroll, she stepped into the cafe. the air condition blasted against her grey v-neck t-shirt, capris skinny jeans, and white strappy heels. she stared at the long line, and shrugged to herself, as if saying "what can i do?" she waited patiently for her turn before ordering a rasberry passion tea lemondade. her eyes scanned the place. crowded as usual. her eyes landed on a familiar figure. she's seen him somewhere before... the steets? school? yeah! he was in modelling too. she slowly made her way over to him, watching him put his head down. she frowned.

she stood in front of his table. "hi.... easton, right?" she smiled politely with a small waving gesture. she was about to sit down before realizing he might have no clue who she was. "i'm arabella. i was just uh wondering if you were okay... you looked kind of um sick or something." she rambled, her fingers playing with the hem of her shirt. she looked hesitantly at the workers. looks like it was going to be a while until her drink would be made. her eyes travelled back to the sort of stranger. "mind if i umm sit down?" she asked, glancing at the empty seat across from him. "unless you're with somebeody, then i can totally, you know, leave..."


( TAGS ) -- easton royce aldrich
( COMMENTS ) -- n/a
( CREDITS ) -- me
( LYRICS ) -- true colours

[easton]

easton bragged about his catwalks, showed off his ad in a magazine, and flaunted his good looks. why shouldn't he? he was a great model. so many designers have told him that he had, "the look". he was also quite versatile, so he got picked for any kind of shoot. he was living his dream, basking in all of his glory. he was riding on his high horse, hoping that no one would knock him down. it was no surprise that he was one of the best models for men that the academy had, and he was hated for it. the other guys tried to be catty, something one would think that only a girl did, but no...these boys were just as much backstabbing bitches as the female models. he never got along with any of the guys because he was a threat and he isolated himself. he needed no one.

his parents were shitting out money rich. they lived in a loft in new york and attended parties, bought franchises, shopped, and had affairs that they thought were secret but truly weren't. they ruled the business world and expected their son to rule the fashion. a ton of pressure was put on easton, especially by his father. his father was never fond of the modeling, but he took gratification in the thought that easton could not model forever and would eventually need to get a degree and be something more powerful and dominant. his mother was a drunk. she drank wine all day and hit on men twice her age. she was a slut. he never liked her. he did not like either of his parents. the only person he loved was lenka, the housekeeper that raised him and cared for him. when he hit it big, he was buying her a house so she could get the fuck outta his parents - they were a bitch to work for.

a voice spoke his name and he jolted up, surprised. his hair was flattened to his face and his eyes were close; he had obviously fell asleep. he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and yawned as he stretched, almost hitting a lady carrying a cup of coffee. he looked at the gorgeous blonde standing before him. he eyed her up and down. she had a tight little body. she introduced herself and he looked up at her. her hair was so bright, her skin glowed. damn, she was like a fucking angel or a damn ray of sunshine. "i'm straight, just hungover." he admitted. he leaned back in his chair and looked at her expectantly as she talked, smirking. "it just so happens i am...you." he flirted, flashing her a smile. with his foot, he kicked out the chair in front of him, initiating for her to sit her sexy ass down.

[ruby3]

IN A WORLD FULL OF PEOPLE, YOU CAN LOSE SIGHT OF IT ALL

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darkness still inside you make you feel so small[/font][/center]

this cafe brought back so much memories. before her mom got sick, they would come here every morning. just to have mother-daughter time. her mom had worked hard. when her mother and father married, he was such a gentleman. he worked from eight in the morning until six thirty. right in time for dinner. and then one day, his co-workers brought him to the casino, a couple a miles away from town. after the fifth time there, her father was addicted to gambling. he soon lost his job, and then his friends, and all the money her mother earned. they were almost even kicked out of the house because they couldn't pay their bills, taxes, etc. arabella, feeling bad for her mother, took a job and worked her ass off.

each time she got her pay check, a chunk of the money would be gone. she had even gotten into a couple of fights with her father because of that. she never punched him out because her mother had told her not to. she'd do anything for her mother. so she didn't, but that didn't stop her from thinking how it would happen if she got to punch him. and soon after she got her first job, her mother became sick with pancreatic cancer. did her father care? hell to the no. he didn't do jack shit. he didn't pay for the hospital bills, the treatment, the surgery, or anything else unlike her.

she watched her mother die. slowly. it was the most painful thing to bear. and then she had to work two jobs because her father never left any money for her to buy food or clothes or anything. when she was sixteen, she applied for emancipation. the judge granted her of her wish, of course. when her boss found he, he kindly offered her his home. he was seventy six, and he lived alone. she couldn't accept the offer unless he allowed her to cook for him, clean the floors, clean the house, etc, etc. two years later, he passed away from a heart attack. she took over the restaurant, so now, at a young age of eighteen, she was already paying workers their paycheck.

and at the same time, still maintaining her modelling career. of course, that helped a little bit with her business. and when her father realized that she was making lots of money, he started contacting her, but she never replied back. and just yesterday, she received a blackmail from him. not that she really cared. he had nothing bad to say about her to the world, unless he made it up or something. for all she cared, he could rot in hell. he was the one who was stupid enough to get addicted to gambling. he was the one who never visited her mother when she was sick. he was never a father to her. therefor, she didn't need to be a daughter to him.

she shook her head free from the thoughts, watching as he almost knocked a worker with a tray of drinks in her hands. arabella sprang her hands out, balancing the tray for woman. "here you go" she handed back the tray with a smile, missing easton's eyes when it travelled up and down her body. "oh! that's no good! you should try a banana smoothie then, or something banana, they usually help hangovers." she beamed at him brightly. "it just so happens i am...." she muttered a disappointed 'oh' silently before he finished with a "you." her eyes brightened, and her cheeks turned a crimson red. she sat down gracefully on the chair he kicked out for her. "thank you."


( TAGS ) -- easton royce aldrich
( COMMENTS ) -- n/a
( CREDITS ) -- me
( LYRICS ) -- true colours