Chapter 23: 22. ANGEL

The Mystical Nativity, Botticelli, 1500

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『 nsfw 』

Isaac really needed to sneeze. He tried his best to hold it in, but every time he thought he was good, his makeup artist would spin back around and powder more onto his face. To make matters worse, the brush she used prickled his skin with every small touch. Isaac must've contorted his face in an extremely rude and disgraceful way, because the woman painting his face like a blank canvas eventually removed the brush to stare at him impatiently.

"If you have to sneeze, just say so," she said. She was a slightly curvy woman, with her own face glammed up and hair bigger than the moon.

"Thank you," he replied. When nothing came out, it burned like hell and his eyes watered in a failed attempt to extinguish the flames in his nose. Dear God, the pain and agony of an incomplete sneeze. Sheepishly, he apologized to his makeup artist for interrupting her.

"I don't think I'm right for this job," he admit. "I'm going to be fired."

She let out a snort. "Hun, you're pretty much free to do whatever you want, you know," she smirked, "with Jesse taking such a liking to you, after all."

"Liking?"

"Don't act all innocent. First day and you're already the star of the show?" She quirked a thick, filled-in brow. "How was he, dollface? I heard he's quite skilled with both."

"You're confusing me."

"Um..." she muttered, a look of regret forming on her sparkling face. "Didn't you...like, sleep with him for this spot?"

Isaac frowned still, but caught on. It was his first day at work and people were already gossiping about him behind his back. "No? What do you even mean by star of the show? I was told I'm a background model, meaning not the center of attention. I'm just here to make money so that I don't die homeless."

She passed him a small, handheld mirror. "Honey, take a good look at yourself. Does this look like the face of an extra to you?"

Taking the mirror by the handle, he glanced into the glass and his eyes widened at the sight. She was right; he didn't look like an extra at all. The sharper parts of his face: cheekbones, nose bridge and bow of the lip were emphasized as they glistened under studio lights. Meanwhile, the softer aspects like the skin of his cheeks were a faint rose, not so much that he looked like a clown but just the right amount to resemble a daydreaming girl in the presence of her crush. Dewy and bright. Dare he say beautiful. He was almost...

Angelic.

He tried to hard to find the right words to describe how he looked, but once he did, he didn't doubt them. A fallen angel he was.

"Jesse specifically requested that I make you like this."

Isaac heard but didn't respond, too busy starting at the stranger in his reflection.

It's time for the artist to become the art.

So this is what he meant. How clever. While Isaac painted a world where innocence didn't exist, Jesse provided ironic juxtaposition. He took what was dirty and vile and filled with sin and made it pure again. Isaac felt mocked, like the man was teasing him with an image of what he could've been, perhaps in another life or another world, but instead never was because fate made a different decision for him. It made him furious.

When the woman finished, Isaac thanked her and left for his first shoot. Although calm in appearance, looks are often deceiving, for he was already planning on confronting the photographer behind the scenes.

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The first modeling gig of Isaac's

blossoming career ended midday. Surprisingly, being photographed turned out to be a surreal experience. Used to being under the scrutinizing gaze of Eton, he would admit that being fawned over, even if by Jesse and his flickering camera, wasn't too bad.

He would tell Isaac to "tilt his head" and "adjust his hips", to which he'd comply, and the photographer would shower him with praise. It was exhilarating. Kind of addicting to say the least.

Isaac wondered if Josiah felt this way when everyone admired his perfection, or when they gushed over his every achievement, praised him like a God. He wondered what Josiah was doing this very minute. Probably excelling even more without his own presence acting as a nuisance.

After his session, he swiftly followed Jesse into his office, prepared for confrontation.

"Why did you make me the center?" was the first thing he asked.

"Why?" The man, unaffected by his arrival, continued observing a file of photos. His gaze did not meet his. "I think you're attractive, that's why."

Isaac felt his face flush with heat. The man spoke so straightforwardly it made him uneasy. "Is it true? Do people sleep with you to get to get to the top? Is that what you plan to do with me?"

The man finally met his eyes. "Isaac, all the relationships I've had have been consensual. It's merely a coincidence that they happen to be better at their jobs. Is that all?"

"N-no," he let out. "It's not. Why an...an angel?"

"I see you've caught on." Isaac watched Jesse's eyes darken with interest "Do you remember the day we first met? You told me about the nonexistence of innocence. You told me the world was damned to hell." He folded his hands on his desk and leaned forward with a smirk. "And I couldn't stop thinking about what you said."

"So you decided to mock me?"

"Mock you? No, beautiful. I wanted to prove you wrong. I wanted to prove that someone like you is perfectly capable of becoming something like what you are right now. An angel."

Isaac scoffed. "Easy for you to say. You don't know me enough to know that I'm not capable."

"Well how about I learn then? About you...and your capabilities."

There was definitely implication in his voice.

"How?"

"Well, for starters, I'm working on a personal piece and I need a model. How do you feel about becoming my own little muse?"

"I-I don't know—"

"I'll pay you twice of what you'd make here. All you have to do is sit still and look pretty for the camera. I know you can do it."

"I still don't-"

"Take some time to think about it," he said. "You already have my number. All you have to do is call."

Isaac didn't say anything, only looked back into his eyes one last time. This time they flickered like a camera flash. He swallowed, and turned to the exit, pondering what the hell he'd gotten himself into.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✦ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

When Isaac got a call from Asher in the late evening, he wasn't surprised. He liked to call him from time to time to update him on what was essentially Eton gossip, but Asher preferred the term friendly conversation. Isaac didn't, or couldn't, mind. He was the one who told the boy to keep in touch with him.

"...I think I might like Charlie," he started with, voice slightly tipsy.

Isaac rolled his eyes at his drunk friend's confessions, though he knew he couldn't see him. "Can you feel that?"

"Feel what?"

"I'm rolling my eyes so far back I can see my own brain."

"I'm being serious!"

"I know you are. But I already knew this was going to happen."

"Please. Don't act like you're a relationship expert."

"Excuse me? Last time I checked, all of my hookups were left satisfied."

"Yeah," he scoffed, "all but one."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Isaac sneered in return, although he knew exactly what he meant.

"Isaac...Josiah hasn't really been the same since you left.

"So?"

"You probably don't care, but I heard he wants to leave so badly he's graduating early to attend a university in America."

Oh.

Isaac fell silent.

"...really?" he finally asked. "That sounds...nice, I guess."

"You think so? I feel like I'd stand out way too much. Being a little British boy in the big States and all. Aren't Americans obsessed with our accents? Gosh, if Josiah didn't get enough attention here, he'd certainly get enough all the way across the ocean. Am I ranting? When I drink I tend to speak without thinking like...at all. I have a brilliant story to tell you by the way. I was at a football game when..."

Josiah was leaving for good. He was leaving the goddamn country. Asher's rant had no end in sight, but all Isaac could think about was the fact that he'd probably never see Josiah again.

"...and I almost kissed him! Could you imagine the look of horr-"

"I've got to go, Ash." Suddenly, he wasn't in the mood for talking anymore.

"Oh. Call you soon then?"

"Sure."

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The day was beyond dead when Isaac couldn't stop thinking about Josiah's leave. It was weird. For the past few weeks, Isaac forced himself to do the exact opposite of this in an attempt to move on. He struggled even as time passed, so he went as far as to distract himself with finding work and exercise and the creation of art. Just this once, since he's leaving, he convinced himself. Just this once I can let myself go.

It was a mistake to unlock the cage containing his wild thoughts and reckless reminiscences. One after the other, bits of happiness flooded his mind and ruined him. His favorite memory was of a rendezvous. He and Josiah had made a spontaneous decision to ditch their schedules to meet in an abandoned classroom.

"God, we really shouldn't be doing this," said the prefect in perfect harmony with the sound of Isaac unbuckling his belt. "This is so wrong."

"Since when did you care?" he teased back, moving closer to tug at the hem of his shirt. Josiah sat on a desk, giving Isaac easy access to his legs. He took them and wrapped them around his waist. "You're just as bad as I am."

"I never said I did." he answered. "It's fucking hot that we're doing this here."

Isaac still remembered the way Josiah looked at him that day. There was this untamable hunger in his eyes, combined with the thrill from the possibility of being caught. Before he knew it, his hands started roaming his own body. It wasn't enough though. Nothing was ever enough anymore.

It was then he spied white silk folded over a chair in the corner of his room.

Don't you dare you bastard.

Isaac had no control over himself; he grabbed the material and brought it back to his mattress. He buried his face in it, hoping he'd somehow find Josiah's scent buried under layers of previous washes. He couldn't find it, but the feeling of the smooth silk against his skin along with his fantasies was enough to arouse him.

He ran the scarf over the sensitive areas of his chest, remembering the way Josiah's tongue roamed his body like a treat. Before he realized, his hand fell below the waistband of his pajama pants, and he was working on his erection.

His hand was awfully hot as it pumped up and down. The combination of body heat and friction must've been the cause. Isaac buried his face—his shame—in his pillow to muffle his moans. "J-Josiah," he whimpered softly.  While one hand was working his lower half, the other rubbed the scarf over the rest of his body, giving silky kisses to his skin.

He cried out the prefect's name, repeated it like chant, sang it like hymn on his lips. Over and over, as fast as his hand could move up and down. When Isaac climaxed, pleasure ran through every bone in his body in the form of chills and trembles. He finished on his side, body curled up to make himself as small as possible. It was the perfect position to hide what he had just done from the rest of the world.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✦ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Isaac made his decision.

After washing himself up, he searched his pockets for a certain business card and dialed the number on it, despite knowing it was late and the chance of his call being answered was next to nothing. It would've been wiser to have waited and called in the morning. For some reason, he felt like he had to do this right away. His heart skipped a beat when the ringing stopped and a voice came.

"Hello?"

"Hey. Sorry it's so late. It's, uh, Isaac, by the way. About that job..."

"Ah, yes. What about it?"

"I want to take you up on your offer."

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