The Love Code (BoyxBoy)

Running From The Runway

•Damien's POV•

''Raul! Raul I need...well where's the...this isn't the wardrobe I need.'' I fussed as the event stylist threw my runway outfit at me.

''Jou complain vay to much, it is not good vor your complexion. Tais-toi et souris.(Shut up and smile.)'' He ordered in his native tongue, making me roll my eyes as I gripped my clothes and shot him a look.

''Tais-toi et fais ton travail. (Shut up and do your job.) I'm going to be the first one out those curtains which means I deserve the center piece of the collection. I worked just as hard as everyone else to be here and just because I'm...Americain does not mean I deserve it any less. Give me the center piece or I'm not walking down that runway today.'' I warned.

I hated when shit like this happened. Stuck up stylist being snotty to you for no god damned reason except their own nations pride. Was it my fault that some French dude wasn't headlining the fashion show today?

No, absolutely not but the anger was getting thrown my way anyway. He's just mad because he didn't want an American representing the center piece in his collection, not that it's that special anyway. But that's just my opinion. In the fashion world they seem to leave the critiquing to the people with deep pockets.

I've seen a woman pay three million dollars for a dress that she'd only wear once and had to be sewn into. Shocked the hell outta me. Do you know what more important shit that money could've been put towards?

Anyway, this was my big break, and I wasn't about to let his stick in the mud attitude kill my hype. I'm excited about this. I've been working in modeling for years now and I finally get to headline a big show in America.

Raul turned around, taking the clothes that were in my hand and giving me the clothes I requested.

''Merci,'' I said walking away from him and towards my dressing room. Although I probably should, I don't like to hold grudges. I picked up the French language last year when I did fashion shows in Paris. It's a really beautiful country, and until Raul all the people I've met from there have been kind.

I walked into my dressing room, shutting the door behind me. I glanced at the clock on the wall, as I hung the outfit on a nearby dressing rail. I had an hour until the show started. I laid down on the couch.

This is really the part of my career that I hate the most. I hate being alone. It gives me time to think and I hate thinking. My mind always goes to places I'd rather it not.

The past seven years of my life hasn't at all been the easiest. I've been to fucking hell and everyday I have to breath in the fresh air of the morning to remind myself I'm not there anymore.

Up until bitter reality hit me I thought everything was so simple and easy. I've honestly never been so fucking stupid. Leaving my home town...leaving certain people...leaving a certain person behind was the hardest thing that I've ever done in my life. I've never been able to have as much strength as I had that day. It took every fiber in my being to walk away.