Wax

Candles for Cameras

A/N: It has been absolutely forever because I have been on a writing break to cleanse my pitiful soul of ill thoughts and tough times but I is le back with the special chapter as promised! 

This is an alternate universe special of Head Fashion Designer Vanille and Underwear Model Leroy doing their thing :> It's relatively long at 5.6k words but you guys deserve it after the wait. Next week, I'll be going right back to the storyline and I can only hope you enjoyed the steamy previous chapter haha I mean there is more to come but there will also be plot picking up because it's been much about Vanilla and Leroy coming to terms with what they are and how they should progress from here on out. 

Thank you so so much for waiting and giving me the time off. I'm so so very sorry if I haven't been responding to messages on my inbox or message board but you can for sure find me on Instagram at hisangelchip. I like to upload stories of previews and snippets of the chapters I'm writing but recently it's been so much more enjoyable with my new setup and mechanical keyboard hehe. Some of you even requested I do videos of just me typing/writing because, well, keyboard typing videos are apparently a thing!

Enjoy.

__________________

The height of the fashion industry could not so simply be achieved by any fellow of youthful passion and dreamy ideals. To climb the ranks and become a recognized figure of acknowledged skill and talent was certainly impossible without the golden rule of experience. And yet, breaking every rule possible and establishing a successful brand of his own, in the capital of fashion, was Vanilla Julian White of unimaginable talent, genius, and grit. While his classmates in high school were spending their days in school and nights in house parties, he was correcting Julia Winter designs (re-inventing, he liked to say) and making bold new statements about the season's trends. By the time he'd graduated high school and entered the most prestigious fashion school in all of Paris, the fresh little snowflake had already launched a highly-regarded fashion line of his own.

Three years later, Vanille—as he is often referred to by the French world of fashion—was running shows and heading cover shoots of international fashion magazines. And yet, the young little talent had somehow maintained, throughout his years of fame, fortune and success, an odd obsession with cold, hard truth. Quite the epitome of ice.

"Oh even a fool could tell that his face was edited from the look of his chin, and those legs," he said quietly to himself after giving the image on the tablet a mere glimpse. Turning to the next assistant in line, he gestured for her to come forth. "Is everyone hungry? Let's wrap things up quickly and get to lunch." Before the photos of these male models kill his appetite entirely.

Another photo was presented. This one made him blink twice. "Chen?" He looked up from the tablet with ripples of confusion. "He's one of Julia's. That would be poaching."

"He was the one who called me up, Mr. White," said the assistant, fairly pleased with herself. "Said he's interested in working on a project with you. A personal interest."

As expected of a frozen lake, it remained unfazed by slight disturbances in the air. "Ah. Well, maybe next time," he returned the tablet to her hands. "Chen is an experienced model, trained by the best in the industry but, um. The fall collection doesn't suit him very much, I'm afraid. Thank you for staying in contact with him. Perhaps the winter show."

The intern nodded with heavy shoulders, moving out of the way for the next assistant to present their golden candidate for Vanille's highly anticipated fall collection.