Figments of Beauty

III

Late August, 2012

Waking up on a Monday morning was possibly the worst feeling in the world.

That was the only thought running through Chuuya's head as he tossed the bed covers off of himself and stumbled toward the bathroom, scratching the back of his neck and sighing loudly. He'd been set up with one of the company apartments; there was also the option to get his own place, but he didn't have the means for that and he could spend a year in the suite for free before he either bought or paid rent on it.

Chuuya splashed cold water on his face without looking at his bare hands, brushed his teeth, and combed out his hair as he incessantly dreaded his first day at work. He didn't know how to cook, but he'd picked up a box of cereal last night so a dry bowl of that would have to do.

He could practically hear Kouyou's voice in the back of his head, scolding him like some small child. You'll get fat if you eat all that. Where's the nutritional value? You're a disgrace to models everywhere.

"Damn witch," Chuuya muttered, shoveling the cereal into his mouth like some kind of starved animal. He wasn't, though, and he cleaned up and put his dishes away like any civilized human would do.

Chuuya had zero idea what he was in for today. All Mori had told him was to be in the lobby by seven, and it was nearly five 'til. He tugged on an outfit that he thought looked fancy enough (apparently, the clothes in his wardrobe were a complimentary gift from the company) and rushed out the door without a second glance behind him.

By the time he arrived in the lobby (he only took three wrong turns this time), he was late by six minutes and Kouyou was frowning at him from where she sat in one of the plush white chairs in the sitting area, hands folded in her lap. Her eyes bore into Chuuya as he took a seat across from her, trying not to sweat under such a hard stare.

"You're late."

He scowled. "Yeah, look, I'm not really used to—"

She held up a hand and he immediately shut his mouth. Kouyou was certainly the scariest person in this company—scarier than Mori—and he didn't say that lightly because Chuuya wasn't scared of anything.

"I didn't ask for excuses. You're late. It won't happen again." Not a question and not a request but a fact. Chuuya nodded. "We're going to have to tail one of our best models for most of the day. He's starting a shoot, so you'll be able to see what the process looks like before you get involved yourself," Kouyou explained with slightly narrowed eyes as if she were studying him to see his reaction.

It sounded boring as fuck, but oh well. "Fine."

Kouyou clicked her tongue. "Your manners are atrocious."

"Yes ma'am," Chuuya corrected himself, highlighting each word with glaring sarcasm. Kouyou only arched a brow and he found himself regretting it.

"Come. We're going."

"Where?"

A piercing glance his way. Chuuya shut his mouth.

He fiddled with the ends of his sleeves, jaw taut as he tried not to look back at Kouyou. She was so elegant about it, but there was a sharp, almost-cruel quality to the way she spoke—and worse, the way she looked at him. Like she could see through to his very core. Like she was displeased with what she saw.

Chuuya wasn't surprised to find that they were going to the first floor, but he was surprised when it started to seem like they were going to stay there.

"You're going to meet your team first." Kouyou led the way to the makeup studios, and Chuuya found two people standing near one of the booths, one of which looked around his age and one looked like he could be Chuuya's grandfather. He couldn't see them well enough to distinguish anything he might recognize, but the woman in the suit seemed familiar somehow.