Statue of David, Michelangelo, 1504
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At the age of eleven, Josiah Beckett knew from the minute he experienced his first crush that there was something terribly wrong with him. A defect, that's what he'd call himself.
Blossoming feelings, like a rose born in the winter. Too early to have sprouted, it'd die in a blizzard before being granted the chance to become something beautiful.Its death was inevitable, because flowers aren't meant to bloom when it's cold outside. Because flowers were delicate things.
His name was Theodore. Josiah liked to call him Teddy, since it shortened his name and Josiah liked to give him more hugs than his own stuffed bears. He didn't think his way of showing affection was strange. People told him he was simply adorable.
It wasn't strange when they kissed each other on the cheek. His mother did that to him when she tucked him in every night. What was wrong with doing the same to his dear friend?
Josiah started to feel strange when Teddy brought over a stash of his older brother's secret Playboy magazines, and instead of ogling at pictures of half naked women, he stared at his friend's long eyelashes fluttering above his amber eyes. He stared at his partially exposed stomach, because his pajama shirt was loose and obeyed the laws of gravity.
A defect, he realized that day, crying into his pillow because his pants grew tight for the first time. Thinking of a boy.
After Theodore moved away, Josiah convinced himself it was all a lapse in judgement. There was nothing wrong with him. He was the perfect child. Everyone told him that too.
He started distancing himself from others, focusing less on friends and more on himself. In his world, people were only to be used as steps towards successânothing elseâand he refused to slip.
When he was fifteen, his father had called him into his office for the first time, and all he could focus on was the fact that his father has found him worthy of his work.
"I have a problem," his father said.
Josiah nodded, eager to hear his task. Ready to prove he was forever a golden child.
"I haven't received money from a man I generously gave loan to, and now he's missing. What do you think that means?"
"I-" Josiah's eyes widened, scared to admit he didn't know what he was talking about, because he was too young to understand the adult world, and his father looked angry.
"It means the coward ran away, taking my money with him like a thief. Pathetic."
Josiah continued to nod in agreement. He couldn't believe a man could be so foolish.
"So I want his son instead. Apparently he's popular with my clients, and I think he can bring me more."
He was so naive to not understand his father's intentions. So blind.
"I've managed to find the man he lives with. He'll be sent to Eton soon. Find a way to bring him here without force, otherwise he won't come."
"Of course!" he responded right away. Blind and stupid. "Can I ask for a name?"
"Harley," he told him.
At the time, Josiah thought this was just another person he'd use as a stepping stone. Harley. The name rolled off his tongue bitterly. He hated the boy's father for being an idiot. It's only right for his son to pay off his debt for him. He deserved it. Foolish people deserved cruel lives, he told himself.
Maybe that's why his own life was so miserable.
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"Son of a bitch!" Isaac shouted as he threw a telephone across the room. He'd been rejected from his fifth job interview at this point. Apparently, no one was looking to hire a dropout. He could practically hear Asher in his ear singing, "told you so!"
He was stressed. Getting several eviction notices in the mail does that to you. He heard a knock at his door.
"No one's home!" he spit with venom.
"Fine! Looks like I'll just have to eat this these chocolate pastries on my own!"
The frown fell off his face as he sprinted to the door and swung it open. The first thing he noticed was white-blonde hair. "Angel?"
"Well, Charlotte, but I suppose that works too."
Isaac watched as the girl walked past him, despite having not been technically invited in.
"You live here?" she asked, marveling at the spacious flat.
"For now. I'm trying to find someplace I can actually afford."
"Ah, yes. I got your letter."
From time to time, Isaac would write just to keep in contact with the girl. Before he realized, what had began as a friendly act turned into a selfish one in which he'd vent his frustrations out on paper and she'd respond with advice.
"I'm not surprised no one wants to hire someone who can't even handle school."
Her words of wisdom were always sharp and stabbed him right in the gut.
"It was for personal reasons!" he claimed. It was true.
"Yes, but they don't know that," she said flatly. "And it's hard to explain to employers that you think your ex lover was manipulating and using you."
"He was not my..." he drifted off. It still hurt to pretend like Josiah meant nothing to him. Part of him had hoped he'd search every corner of England for himâshow up at his doorstep all disheveled and cute and tell the whole truth without Isaac having to force it out of him. If he did that he'd probably forgive him straight away. But he didn't. That only happened in movies, and this was real life.
Josiah had let him go.
She must've seen the look on his face, because she gave him a small smile.
"Luckily for you I bare good news." Isaac perked up a bit at last. "My family is filthy rich."
"What?" he smirked. "You going to buy me my own flat?"
"Of course not. But I have opportunities for you. How do you feel about selling your body?"
Isaac flinched. His past of selling himself was something he tried to bury. It was an awful point in his life, and he didn't want anyone's pity. "I don't know..."
"My cousin runs a fashion magazine, and he just so happened to be looking for more models. I think you'd be perfect!"
Perhaps he was far too used to assuming the worst.
He laughed sheepishly. "I really don't think they'll want me." No one ever wants me for more than one night.
"Isaac." she stated, staring directly into his eyes, maybe even his soul. "You are beautiful."
How cheesy.
"The world wants you. Fuck, Isaac. People want to be you. They look at you and fall in love with the golden haired boy with stars in his eyes. Remember when we first met by the lake? Remember how they shined brighter because no one was around, but disappeared in the city? I want you to defy odds. Be that goddamn star that shines even when the city lights try to swallow it. Make them allâno, make Josiahâenvy you."
Isaac hasn't laughed in a long time. Too saddened by William's death, pained by his discovery about Josiah, stressed by the fact that he could be living in the streets again, laughing was the last thing on his mind. Now, shoulders grasped firmly by a small girl attempting to inspire him like a football coach, he burst out with laughter. Loud and clear.
"The world wants me!" he shouted.
Her death grip relaxed. "Yes they do! The world wants Isaac Harley!"
They were both laughing wildly together. Isaac didn't know how much he needed this until now. After a few minutes of pure joy, Charlotte finally recollected herself. "What are we waiting for then? Let's get in my car and give the world what it wants."
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The drive was much longer than he thought it'd be, all the way to the heart of London while it was still alive and pumping blood. Charlotte would groan in frustration every time they'd get stuck in traffic, but Isaac didn't mind. He enjoyed the life of a prince in her luxury car while the ride lasted.
By the time they'd arrived at the studio, it was already dark out and Isaac regret not bringing a heavier jumper with him. The sliding doors opened to a secretary, one who Charlotte greeted with a smile and simply walked past as if she came here frequently. She seemed like the type to love the fashion industry. Both her and Dahlia did. They were both glamorous people who lived glamorous lives. Isaac, on the other hand, had no clue what chiffon was.
"I showed my cousin photos from Italy as soon as I got your letter about being unable to find a job," she admit.
"You did? What'd he say?"
"Actually, he said he recognized you."
"Really? From where?"
"Didn't say. Just said he was eager to start working with you. That's great though, right?"
"I guess so."
They continued walking down a hallway.
"There he is," she said at the end, pointing to a tall figure with raven hair. Raven hair he's definitely seen before. At a funeral. In a black turtleneck.
Now the man wore a grey fitted turtleneck and smiled when their gazes met.
Charlotte waved him over.
No way.
"Jesse! This is Isaac."
The man flashed a smug grin and an extension of his hand. "I know, we've met before."
Isaac forced a smile. He didn't think he'd ever see this man ever again. "I guess we have." His words from the funeral echoed in his mind.
I know when I see something that I like.
He took the man's hand and shook it. "I'm glad we can finally introduce ourselves properly. My name is Jesse."
He then leaned forward and mumbled low, low enough for Charlotte to dismiss as she awed the other models. "Looks like it's time for the artist to become the art."
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