.. { Facades } .. [ Private ]

There’s anxiety in the slopes of his shoulders, anticipatory embarrassment in the curve of his back, and frustration in the angle of ebony eyebrows. Thin, full lips purse, reflection diligently following suit, a lithe dominant hand coming to rest at a clothed hip as his weight’s shifted to the left. Should I change? This isn’t too much, right? It’s too much. I should change.

He makes no move to do so, however, ignoring the thudding of his pulse, the drumming of his anxiety as cerulean orbs roam over his choices, taking in the mostly form-fitting black long-sleeved crop top, hands raising to brush against the smoother fabric of some of the bold white letters of ‘I’m sorry, is my sass too much for you?’, the mellow black and white galaxy leggings, the simple grey beanie perched just over the top of his ears, and the plain black choker wrapped around his pale neck, a decorative double terminated aquamarine-colored pendant hanging from the center, nestled in the crook of his collarbone.

It’s probably too much. I’ll wear it anyway.

He ignores the look his sister shoots him as he exits his room, skirting around one of his feline companions as she moves to press the length of her body against a clearly-offered-and-not-at all-busy leg. In one fluid motion he bends to left her, cradling the balinese against his chest, knowing being covered in fur is a small price to pay to show her the attention she deserves as the sphinx proceeds to dash over and nip at his socked toes. Ever the sweetheart, that one.

The four had already been fed and watered, the second thing he does each morning without fail- even all these years later, Kat still can’t believe the amount of effort he puts into each of their meals- but that never stops Sera from acting as though she’s starving.

Slipping his travel bookbag, a gift given to him several years ago that’s far too small to hold much in it by a distant friend from his trip to Canada, over his unoccupied shoulder, Sato releases the now fidgeting Seraphina to slip it all the way on, only to remove it afterwards to slip a heavy pullover hoodie over his form, remembering that it’s been cold recently. Or at least cold by his standards, as he casts a glance at his elder sister, decked out in comfortable black shorts, a plain blue tank top, and a white baseball cap accompanied by black and white converse, just like his own, a black, blue, and white flannel wrapped around her waist.

Why did he agree to this.

Because I’m a fuckin’ idiot. A sigh forces its way past thinly parted lips, brows furrowing in resurfacing annoyance, bookbag returning to its previous location as he pauses to tug at his tank top underneath the crop top- as cold as he often is, he overheats with surprising ease- afterwards readjusting his glasses.

They both know he’s stalling, trying to think himself out of the situation, and it prompts the older woman to begin a line of mostly simple questioning once she reappears, a bag of her own in hand. “How’s your current book?” “Any new commissions?” “Oh do you need any prompts?” “Kid, you’ll be fine. You’ve trained with me since you were in elementary school, you’re pretty damn good. Just remember you still have to attend at least once more before you make a decision. If you don’t like it, I won’t bring it up anymore, but I would still suggest at least getting private lessons from my instructor if it’s the group aspect that bothers you.”

It helps considerably, the plethora of distractions that she offers, as does their stopping at one of their favorite nearby coffee shops, Kat opting for a medium mocha latte with whipped cream and Sato just for two chocolate chip cookies, both of which are disposed of long before they even arrive.

When he does, he’s admittedly taken aback once again; it’s just such an unassuming place. He’s been inside before, during the occasions he’s had to meet up with Kat here for whatever reason, but it never ceases to amaze him how something can look so small on the outside and be the exact opposite internally.

Seriously, why did he agree to this?

She’s drinking the final few sips once they get situated, setting their belongings in an empty space against the nearest wall, throwing it out shortly afterwards before the thicker woman whips around to face the shorter-than-average male, a grin stretching her lips. “Are you down?”

The words have their desired effect, his own lips twisting to match her smile as some tension leaks from his form, chest shaking with subdued laughter. It’s been an inside joke for so long, he doesn’t even quite remember the origin of it, just knowing for certain it refers to one of their favorite routines.

Attempting to crack his neck, avoiding acknowledging anyone else in the room just yet, he gives a, “Let’s do this,” voice tinged with lingering laughter.

I originally kept putting this off because I really didn’t know how to start it, and honestly, I still don’t, so if this is lackluster that’s the main reason why. I believe part of the issue was just my overall inability to relate to her for the most part, so I’ll likely revert back to first person for her. If I switch to third person for her, that means I’ve either forgotten, or I’ve comfortably adjusted to acting her out.

What’s she doing here? Why? Why does she have to be here. Of all the places anyone could be at any given moment, why has our lord and savior decided today of all days was the day to test me.

The day had started off well, too.

--

“Like the color?”

A simple caption for a simple picture; thick lips pulled into a full grin, even thicker near-ebony locks cascading down my back, disguised eyes wide and playful, the back of a hand held just beneath my chin. Decorated in a light layer of makeup, enough to highlight my still lingering summer freckles and bring further attention to my eyes, a filter felt uncalled for, and that seems to have been a wise decision, several likes popping up in the following minutes.

A bit of an ego boost, that. Should probably post something on Snap, too, actually.

With that out of the way, it’s not long before my hair is back in its signature messy bun, outfit of the day long since selected and set aside for post-workout; if there’s one thing I refuse to skip on days off from the club, it’s exercise. Helps get the mind and body ready for everything else, you know? And it’s not like I have much planned for the day, just a talk with my agent about any new opportunities and wasn’t there something else? I’m sure there was. Anyway, that, work on the logistics on a couple of upcoming promotional events, work out the last couple of details on the collab with that one youtuber and that should be it?

I’m sure if there’s anything else I’ll remember it later, or find a note somewhere.

It’s just about an hour later, when I’m in the midst of winding down that my phone begins to vibrate against my hip, obnoxiously persistent. Ito Maria sits upon the screen boldly, and it’s with a quick motion that it’s answered, a pleasant hello quickly offered as I reach for my water bottle, taking a quick sip before taking a seat on the floor and leaning to me left for a side stretch, earbuds nestled firmly in place as the device’s settled between my legs.

“Hey! Great news!”

“Hit me!”

“Remember that magazine we were trying to get you in? The other one, yeah, one of the models had to drop out last minute, some kind of incident but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that we did it! You’re in!”

--

I was excited, of course I was excited. It’s my first time appearing in a magazine! Not to mention it’s one of the more well-known ones, and for the cover Yeah, it was nerve-wracking trying to get here within the time frame, but I did it, I still look great albeit a little frazzled, and I’m feeling all levels of giddy and excited just before I catch sight of her. Yoon Jaehee. The Yoon Jaehee. The woman that always somehow seems several steps ahead, always seems to be making progress, improving, getting exactly what she wants and I just don’t know how she does it.

Part of me wishes she was the one that had to back out. It’d go smoother if she was.

But you know what? This is fine. Yeah. I’m just here to do a job. I’ll just give a polite smile- just like that, even if i know it doesn’t reach my eyes- and carry on. I’m sure we need to head towards the dressing area shortly anyway.

It's not like mine are any better right now so it's not a problem xD

Also idk if you saw the post I made before this but anyway I had apologized for my own delay, work’s been a bit of a mess but things should be settled down now!

He proceeds with his own set of stretches after realizing that's the most logical thing to do rather than just stand around awkwardly like he'd been doing, oblivious to Kat's sympathetic yet amused gaze lingering on him. Settling on something simple and innocuous, the small man busies himself with stretching his arms one after the other behind his shoulders and across his torso before bending forward, glasses slipping down his nose as his fingers curl over the toes of his shoes.

There's so many things he could be doing right now, so many ways he could be spending his free hours, all much more enjoyable, but he's made a promise to her, and she's one of the few who doesn't permit him to break his word. But he should make the best of this, right? Try to turn it into a learning experience?

In retrospect, maybe. But for now? He'll silently bitch as much as he wants.

Settled on the floor to better focus on his legs, Sato's drawn from his internal dialogue by Kat's cheerful voice, spotting her addressing a darker-skinned person a few feet away, several inches taller than her. "Luke, hey! Look who I managed to get to tag along with me." Prussian blue orbs flicker towards him, dancing with mischievous intent as she gestures towards him, lips pulled into a casual smile.

So that's how she wants to play this.

"This is the younger brother I was talking about." He rises to his feet, absentmindedly fidgeting with one side of the beanie as he approaches, valiantly attempting to ignore the drastic height difference- it's not like it hasn't been encountered before- narrowed orbs focusing on Kat briefly before sliding and relaxing on the taller male. "I'm Satoru," He starts, pushing his glasses back up into place, "though I'm sure she's covered that already."

And just like that, she turns on her heels, disappearing without a word. Not even a smile in return.

Well alright then. Understood.

It isn't long after that that I'm whisked off to makeup. I'm not much of a fan of other people doing this for me, but I have no reason to doubt their skill or capabilities. It's just always been uncomfortable to feel someone else's hands against my face or all the brushes or knowing how intensely they're inspecting every inch.

The process is quick, if only because I let my mind wander, thoughts shifting between mundane things like what Sofía's up to to replaying various movie and show scenes. I'm glad that I hadn't put much on this morning, so my efforts don't feel wasted, even if I do prefer it to what I'll have on. Even with the variety of Western influence in many reaches of Japanese culture, I've never quite cared for the more casual makeup looks, at least not for myself. Don't like how soft it makes me look.

I'm annoyed to discover my freckles are covered, but overall I'm content with the look aside from it; lids coated in a light rose base, maroon decorating the crease, a light brush of ebony deepening the outer corner with a dash of a translucent lavender bordering on ivory along the inner corner, the eyes are completed with black liner done in a simple cat eye. My cheeks are done in a subtle rose gold blush, and the contour's nearly as good as if I had done it myself, lips a rich brown similar to my natural eye color. Speaking of, I had to remove them for the shoot. A bit annoying, but it's not like I wear them for vision purposes after all.

Then the hair, that's a more pleasant ordeal, more relaxing. There doesn't seem to be much they need to do to it, fingers curiously roaming through thick locks before deciding to let it remain as natural as possible, leaving the curls to cascade over my shoulders and down my back, only toying with my bangs- or the hair that would be that if I ever cut it- bringing a thick section on either side to loop down and pinning the remains behind my ears underneath everything else. It's kinda cute, admittedly. I wonder what they would've done if they actually had the time, but this is good. At least I don't have to deal with any heat being applied to it.

Now, the fun part: clothes!

Have any idea what kind of fashion sense they'll be using for the shoot?