i. MEDICINE harry styles [ON HOLD]

iii. "hope you're wearing your best clothes"

the tenth of january, 2018.
bloomsbury, london.

adrian loved mornings to himself. he craved them, and given he lived alone, and had 2 friends, it was no hard feat to acquire.

the morning of january tenth, adrian woke up excited. to keep his mood, he disrupted the distant sound of six am traffic with the charming vocals of pomme, one of his favorite artists. "c'était de l'or, tu sais. c'était comme de l'or notre histoire et si jamais..." his soft and sweet voice sang along, as he began preparing for his day.

the model lived in a cosy bloomsbury studio, just under two kilometers south of king's cross station, and two and a half north of the thames. despite the small size, adrian could barely afford his rent, but compensated by the lack of travel prices required for the near specialist hospital, which he unfortunately frequented, and based his location of residence around. the studio was a light-filled rectangle, aged to perfect aesthetic. for design purposes, adrian kept decoration to a minimal. his white tiled bathroom, which contained no window and backed the wall where his bed lay, had no visible product, for all was stored in drawers. the closet, which faced the door of his bathroom, held his minimal clothing collection, with most of the space taken up by a box filled with old ballet slippers. in the open plan area, his kitchen and bedroom. his kitchen was white, color only seen in the charming old gold taps, a stack of mismatched books, and his prized little window shelf full of miniature plants.

he made is way over to these first thing, rising from his white woven bedspread, opening the window shutters, and pouring water into his pots. his kitchen area could realistically only hold two people at once, which thus made it quite easy for adrian to quickly whip up his morning ritual ginger tea, with a splash of lemon and honey. by quarter past six, he was sat at his kitchen bench with a tea, glass of water, and bowl of coconut yoghurt and berries. slowly he ate, letting the music relax him. despite his efforts of mindfulness, at six-thirty, the twenty-one-year-old found himself strewn across his bed, braving his first seizure of the day. it was minor, only focal, requiring little recovery. it served as a reminder for him to take his first round of daily medication.

ø ø ø

his journey to central london for his first new world fitting went without interruption. the entirety of the small trip, the walking and train ride, blurred under adrian's excitement. he would be consulting a stylist and new world representative at the former's business. on specific instruction of what floor and office, adrian found his way quite easily. the room in which he would be spending the morning was pleasant, containing a small desk, conversational coffee table area, and a curtained fitting room. a light morning tea adorned the nearby table. adrian breathed in the scent of dior perfume and privilege, indulging himself into the royalties of the fashion world. the stylist was a blissful round woman, and the representative a tall, sternly dressed, but pleasantly smiling, older man.

the morning was a blur, full of tailoring and trying on half-finished clothing items (which, much to adrian's disliking, prevented him from really seeing what he would be wearing for the shoot and promotion). in between this, the representative took the opportunity to prepare adrian for the experience that was being a cover model, briefed him for his parisian adventure, and probed into what personal information the magazine could divulge. as expected, the man asked about the conditions listed on the mandatory medical form the model's agent had submitted, to which adrian made sure there would be no mention in any of his contracted time with new world. the representative and stylist both comment on how quiet he is; how shy. adrian responds modestly in as few words as possible.

feeling overwhelmed, but so keenly looking forward to the beginning of february, adrian spent the rest of the day following the appointment, buzzing. by evening, the boy gave in to his racing mind and aching shoulders. with the same french music delighting his apartment as had been in the morning, adrian light up a spliff by an open window, and watched the sun sink effortlessly into the darkening sky.