Chapter Text
Nerves made his face tingly. They made him feel like he was submerged in cold water up to the hair, drowning almost. Was it normal to feel like you were choking on nothing when anxiety hit? His heels click clacked on the vinyl floors, his own stone-faced expression staring back at him from the polish. He approached the glass door of his designer’s office, gently pushing it open.
“Seonghwa,” His designer hummed from the desk without looking up. Seonghwa made a small sound through his nose, shutting the door and setting his bag down, “you’re late.”
“And how did you know it was me, Hongjoong? Could’ve been anyone else you just accused of lateness.” Seonghwa asked, a brow raising as he crossed the room with the grace of a fawn.
Hongjoong couldn’t help but chuckle, glancing up from his papers. “Your heels give you away. Do you know how loud those things are?”
Seonghwa felt self consciousness settle in his already drowning lungs. Hongjoong’s naturally judgemental gaze always did that. Instead of allowing himself to break, Seonghwa just smiled slightly, shrugging.
“How do you know it’s not all part of the look? All part of what I’m going fo–”
“It’s not.”
Seonghwa shrunk a little.
Hongjoong hummed slightly again, a sound that Seonghwa knew all too well. It was his thinking sound. Judging sound, too. “Do you know your schedule for the day?” He pondered, tone distant enough to sound like he wasn’t even speaking to Seonghwa.
“Meeting with you, fitting, photoshoot, exercise, refresh.” Seonghwa told him so methodically he sounded robotic. He knew this schedule like the back of his hand. Hongjoong gave a pleased smile.
“Good. Are you ready, then? I know its early, but you’re my best model, face of the company.” Hongjoong’s praise gave Seonghwa a little bit of joy on this dark, anxiety filled morning. It was the middle of winter, and at 6:17 in the morning, the sun wasn’t even up yet. Just a small flurry of snow beyond Hongjoong’s windows.
“I am.” Seonghwa replied, nodding as if his head wasn’t pounding. Hongjoong stood, Seonghwa watching. With a beckoning hand motion, Hongjoong walked towards the little offshoot room to the side of his office. The model followed, trying to walk lighter so his heels wouldn't be so loud. Instead, he just sounded awkward.
The room was almost sterile smelling, a hint of fabric scent lingering in the air. There was a small elevated stand in the center of the room for fittings. Measuring tapes, sewing needles, spools of strings and different outfits cluttered up the small space. At the small table was Seonghwa’s tailor, a man with a round face and perfect hair. He grinned when he saw Seonghwa enter.
“Ah, my favorite model, come, come, come say hello!” He said excitedly. Seonghwa smiled a little.
“Hello, Rome. It's been a minute.” He gave Rome a quick hug. They wanted to try and catch up, but Hongjoong stood near the door, glasses low on his nose. He always insisted on staying. Seonghwa never knew why.
Because of the pressure from Hongjoong’s gaze, the process began. Seonghwa shed his coat, his heels, his button up and his slacks, stepping onto the podium in nothing but boxers. His designer clothes hit the floor like he was ridding himself of a second skin. Rome approached to observe Seonghwa, eyes boring heavily on his shape.
“Ah, I see you’ve put on some weight.” Rome pointed out. The comment was harmless, merely an observation that he was paid to make. Seonghwa subconsciously sucked his stomach in, only for Rome to laugh. “Don’t do that. I need your proper measurements.”
Why couldn’t his proper measurements be thinner?
Rome circled Seonghwa with the measuring tape, sizing everything from biceps to thighs, making sure everything was perfect. Due to the cold, Hongjoong had made idea’s for a winter line, ‘androgynous clothes for the cold’ he had dubbed it. Seonghwa suppressed an eyeroll. He liked the idea, of course. Hongjoong’s genderless fashion line was the best thing since silk, doing good for communities of people that preferred to present as all, neither, and everything in between. Sometimes, though, Seonghwa was tired.
The measuring lasted nearly an hour and Seonghwa had lost feeling in his toes from standing for so long. “All done, my dove! You did great as always, I’ll give your measurements to the stylists and seamstresses right away!” Joy laced Rome’s tone, a wide grin spreading on the round cheeks of his face. Seonghwa just smiled and nodded, getting up to get dressed. He could feel Hongjoong’s eyes, the subtle disappointment in them that he always had.
Seonghwa gave a silent swallow as he followed Hongjoong back to the office, looking over the measurements on the small piece of card stock. “Why couldn’t he just use paper?” Hongjoong mumbled to himself, pinning the card stock to his white board. Seonghwa stayed quiet, hands behind his back. Finally, Hongjoong motioned for him to sit.
For longer than Seonghwa would have liked, they stared at each other from across the desk. He could feel Hongjoong observing him, like an animal in a cage. Along came the cold water, stopping just below his locked knees.
“I heard what Rome said. I can see it as well.” Hongjoong began with no warning. The water rose to Seonghwa’s stomach, nausea settling deep below his ribs.
“Ah. Sorry, I haven’t been as stern on my diet.” The silence stretched like the time did. Slowly, warping almost.
“I can tell. Do you plan on fixing it?” Hongjoong asked, tilting his head. The water tickled Seonghwa’s lungs, making it hard to breathe. He nodded. Hongjoong blinked slowly.
“What time is the shoot?” Seonghwa blurted suddenly, trying to speak before the water rose to his mouth and cut him off.
“I thought you knew your schedule. Noon.” Hongjoong’s tone was dissatisfied. Seonghwa swallowed, trying to gulp the water down, as if that would keep him from getting cold and tingling again. His cheeks felt hot.
“Sorry, I– Can– Can I leave? I need to freshen up before my shoot.” Seonghwa said quickly, shoving away the urge to bite his inner lip. Hongjoong, clearly tired of the whole conversation, just waved a hand towards the door.
Seonghwa shot to his feet and bowed, muttering a thank you before completely leaving. He felt like he was forgetting something, but he didn’t care. Not much, really. He’d figure it out eventually.
For now, the cold water rose past Seonghwa’s nose and washed over his brain, submerging him in the depths of his own insecurity and anxiety.