Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Do you ever feel like everyone is staring at you?

Not that ‘oh my god, I have something on my face or something’ kind of staring.

More like they are judging every thing you have ever done in your whole life, even though they don’t know you.

I get that feeling quite a lot.

Always have, never quite figured out why.

I mean sure, I have a few insecurities and sort of low self esteem too, I guess.

I’m sure everybody does.

But having that feeling that all eyes are on you, kinda makes them seem a little bigger and that self awareness just a little bit harder to ignore.

My roommate and I live in a top floor apartment in the upper part of New Orleans.

I originally moved here for University, I just graduated this year, but I was planning on staying here afterwords.

I’ve kinda grown to love this overly active and populated city the last two years.

Luckily, I have a decent roommate who is also interested in sticking around awhile.

Mum just about fainted when I told her I met my soon-to-be flatmate over the internet and the fact she’s three years older then me, didn’t help ease her mind any.

The fact it was girl, really didn’t help either.

Yeah, they had apartments with other students on the campus, but I honestly didn’t want to live right by the university.

Made me feel a little claustrophobic.

I decided I wanted to be a little more in the city, which of course meant I would still need a roommate because, dang, rent is expensive.

Amy and I have…..well, we didn’t immediately click.

Unlike most sappy books; where the boy moves to a big city and instantly befriends his roommate, the two ending up being inseparable.

Well, yes, Amy and I are now practically best friends, she’s like my sister, but the key word being now.

Only after about five months of us being at each others throats.

The short version is, she works at a fashion boutique just a few blocks over, normally working the evening shift.

However, her boss texted her at 10pm on a Friday evening to see if she could, by chance cover for a sick colleague and work the opening Saturday shift.

Normally, I’m sure she would have been delighted to, except for the small fact that she is in fact a grown 27 year old and had gone out with some friends to ring in the weekend with a few drinks.

Amy had only been working there a few months at the time so she didn’t really want to say no.

Me, being the anti-social 24 year old I am, had stayed home, turned up my music so it blasted though the whole flat and tried to do some blogging.

I’m a fashion photographer and blogger, so writer’s block kinda comes with the job title.

And at the time I was still taking classes, so it was twice as stressful.

Amy came back to the flat around 11pm, still slightly intoxicated, hollered at me to be quite and went to her room to try to sleep off the alcohol that was currently swirling through her bloodstream.

Since we still considered each other the enemy at that point, I saw it as a perfect opportunity to get back at her for the time she snuck in my room and turned off my alarm for one of my 6am classes, because she was mad I ate some of her cereal without asking.

I went in my bedroom, picked up my bluetooth speaker set, and took it to the lounge, just down the hall from her bedroom.

I switched on ‘Uma Thurman’ and cranked that sucker up as loud as it could go.

To put it mildly, she was a little…upset.

Looking back on it, I still kinda feel bad for our neighbors.

They probably thought the apocalypse was starting or something.

Not even a minute later, Amy came storming out of her room, pure fury flaming behind her hazel eyes.

“If that didn’t happen to be one of my favorite songs I would so kill you right now!” She yelled at me, her long black hair now pulled up into a messy bun.

To be totally fair she did have to yell in order for me to hear her over the deafening music.

A small victorious smirk still played on my lips as I lowered the volume back down, “You like Fall Out Boy?”

She straightened up a bit and nodded as she walked into the lounge, flopping on the sofa, “Thnks Fr Th Mmrs, is actually my favorite.”

I smiled a little as I turn around to switch my speakers off, “Nice, that one is definitely up in my favorites too.”

Turns out we had a lot in common music wise and after a little digging, we found out we actually had a TON in common in just about everything.

A year later and she’s now my best friend, funny how that works, uh?

Ah, sorry, I’m getting a little off track.

In the evenings I usually take walks, helps me wined down my mind before going to bed.

However, every other night at exactly 9pm, my mum always calls to check in on how things are going.

Honestly, she must set an alarm or something, no way she could be that accurate every time without being reminded.

She finally relaxed about the whole roommate thing when she came to visit last year and absolutely loved Amy though.

Especially when Amy gave her a discount at the boutique.

My parents almost didn’t let my leave London to come here, she said she didn’t want me so far away.

Not that they were super thrilled about me being home either.

They kind of had to get over it though because I was a full grown adult, New Orleans had the exact writing program I was looking for, AND had some of the most amazing photography courses in the world.

Hell, if I wasn’t going.

My first camera was a Nikon D3X Digital SLR I bought when I was 16.

You have no idea how many dogs I had to walk to get that thing.

I have loved fashion photography ever sense I was little and writing was sort of just a hobby.

When I was around 18 I decided to combine the three and make a fashion photo blog.

I asked a few of my friends to model for me, I picked out a few designer clothes I had and made three posts for my first week.

I had almost 700 followers that following weekend.

My parents however, have never been totally “hyped” with me being a photographer or blogger, especially about fashion of all things.

They always said it wasn’t really a proper job.

I know that’s not the only reason, though they never told me, but I never needed them too.

I’m sure they wanted their son to have a little more of a traditional career for a boy; Doctor, Lawyer, something of that nature.

I don’t want this to come across as arrogant, but I have close to six million followers on my blog now and that’s what pays my bills and then some.

Does my family care? Do they care I absolutely love what I’m doing?

Not really.

They love me, I know they do.

It’s just sometimes it feels more like obligatory love then anything.

When mum calls I usually say I had a great day, whether I did or not.

Saves me from getting the same lecture she gives every time I have a frustrating day.

The lecture on how I shouldn’t have moved so far away and took on something so big so young.

I just tell her I’m going to bed, but in reality I’m just going to snuggle in my bed under fifty blankets and stay up on the internet until 3 am.

What I definitely won’t tell her, is I just got in from wandering the darkening streets of New Orleans like I do every night.

And tonight is no different.

Oh and I guess I should introduce myself, how rude of me.

My name’s Phil.

Phil Lester.

I give a quick glance at myself as I walk by the full body mirror leaning against my bedroom wall.

Black skinny jeans, a short sleeved, red checkered button up, slick black styled sneakers, and my black thickly framed glasses.

My hair is naturally pretty straight so I just give it a quick run through with a straighter, then styling it in a small quiff.

I give a small nod of approval as I grab my headphones off my bedside table and stroll down the hall.

I shuffle out of the apartment, slipping the building key into my pocket and make my way onto the overly crowed sidewalk.

I got finished with my post early, so I must have hit rush hour.

I never really have a destination, I just sort of walk until I see a shop or a cafe that seems cool and go in.

I’ve started playing a game in my head to help keep my thoughts off of, well, my thoughts.

Looking at the people as they rush by to get home after a long day, or are off to work the late shift.

Trying to figure what kind of life they live.

What kind of personality they have.

I slide my headphones in and turn the volume up, probably way louder then it needs to be.

Probably not the safest thing to do.

It’s also probably a good way to get kidnapped.

I might be 24, but still.

Although, it’s probably more likely I would get stabbed, being this close to people I don’t know.

So, yeah, I guess that’s a comforting thought.

As I wander down the street, I see a young women probably no older then early 20’s, flag down a taxi.

She’s wearing a dark navy blue pantsuit with black stilettos, from the new Zara business line if I had to guess.

Most likely in some type of legal position then.

From the way her hair is styled in a tight high bun, the subtle yet eye catching make-up, and the black leather briefcase in her hand, I’m guessing a lawyer.

Impressive at such a young age.

I continue to stroll down the street for a ways, before slotting out of the crowd and into small corner cafe just a few blocks away from Amy’s work.

I get a iced Caramel Macchiato for me and a gently whipped iced latte for Amy.

It’s July, so the temperature in London is just a little over what I imagine hell feels like.

Today is definitely a iced coffee kind of day.

I join back into the hoards of people and slowly make my way down the road to the little boutique on the corner.

As I go in, a little silver bell above the doors rings announcing my arrival.

“Just me!” I holler as I walk in and head towards the counter.

Amy comes out of the back and peeks her head around corner.

“Is that coffee?” She asks, walking out and standing behind the check out counter.

“Nice to see you too.” I say with a grin and hand her the cup before walking around to sit on the return counter just behind her.

She takes a small sip from her cup, her eyes closed, and lets out a content sigh.

“Do I need to leave you two alone?” I ask with a smirk as I bring my cup to my mouth.

She sends me a glare as she takes another sip, “You finished already?”

I give her a nod as I hoist myself up onto the counter and cross my legs at the ankles.

“It’s not super long, but I will probably post it later tonight.”

“Amy? Who is it dear?” A voice asked from the back room.

“It’s just Phil.” Amy hollered back.

Soon enough, Mrs Neil came out of the back with a smile on her face, “Ah, Phil sweetheart, how are you?”

I give her a smile and set down my coffee next to me, “Hey Mrs. Neil, I’m alright. And yourself?”

“I’m just peachy, darling. Thanks for asking.”

I bow my head with a grin in response as she walks over and grabs something out of the cabinet next to me.

Mrs. Kathy Neil, other wise known as the owner of the best fashion boutique in town.

She’s about in her late 40’s, though you wouldn’t know it by looking at her.

She’s always dressed as if she is going visit the queen, but I suppose that’s why she’s so good at what she does.

A few months back, Mrs. Neil was looking for someone to take some pictures of her new stock to put up on her website.

Amy mentioned me and bam, my first real gig.

I told her I would do the whole photo shoot for free and provide the models, since I was still fairly new out of uni and had a few uni friends looking for a quick pound, if she would credit me on the photos when she posted them.

Within a week of her posting I had gained almost 500 followers and she sold over half of her shipment before all of it had even arrived.

Ever since that, I have had quite a steady flow of jobs.

“Oh Phil, I forgot to to tell you,” Mrs. Neil started as she pulled out a box of straight pins from the cabinet.

“A young women came in this morning looking for you. She left her card and said she might have a job proposition for you if you were interested.”

“Really? For me?” I ask, hopping of the counter and taking the card from her hand.

“Wait, why did she come here?” Amy asked, sipping her drink.

“I’m assuming she just came to the address on our website, dear.” Mrs. Neil, replied with a matter of factly tone.

I just smiled at the continued banter as I glance down to read the small rectangular card.

Wait.

“Mrs. Neil, did yo-did you read this?”

The girls turned there attention to me, Mrs. Neil's eyes meeting mine, “No, why?”

I take a deep breath and hold up the card, “It’s from Tasha Akins.”

Amy all but spits her coffee out, “Tasha Akins? As in THE Tasha Akins?”

I nod slowly.

Mrs, Neil breaks out into a giant grin, “Love, I think you might have just hit the big time.”

Chapter Text

I love being in the spot light, the center of attention, all eyes on me.

I found it was easier that way.

When I was in year six I was pretty shy, the very thought of everyone watching me do anything made me want to be sick.

And for that very reason, it gave juvenile school bullies even more ammunition to fire at me.

They would go out of their way to single me out.

When I hit year nine, I decided that if they wanted to make sure people were constantly staring at me, I would damn well give them something to stare at.

I started wearing top line expensive looking clothes, shoes, backpacks, you name it.

Well the ones I could actually afforded at the time anyway.

Dyed my hair crazy colors, actually had it bright violet for awhile.

Wore make-up a few times a week, which as a teenage boy was a big deal to everyone apparently.

Helped boost my confident side though.

It was better that way.

They wanted all eyes on me to judge me, so I just made sure all eyes where already on me before they had the chance.

Judging me in the way that I wanted them too.

Then it was my idea, not theirs.

And it worked.

The bullying, for the most part, almost immediately stopped.

I live alone in a reasonably good sized flat in the upper part of London.

I had a roommate for awhile, he was actually my best friend, but he moved out a year ago so he could live with his girlfriend.

We still keep in touch, but it’s not quite the same.

I never really got around to putting up an ad for a new flatmate, and to be honest, I don’t really need one.

Most people want a roommate so they only have to pay half the rent and I just never needed that.

I can easily pay my rent without having to share my personal space with someone I don’t know.

I grew up in Berkshire, but moved to London last year for work.

As ironic as it sounds I’m actually a fashion model now.

When I was 19 I had pretty low self esteem and the bullying from past years sure as hell didn’t help that.

Where did I turn to boost my teenage self confidence?

You got it, the internet.

Started mostly with just posting over-the-top done selfies.

About a year later I found a website looking for male models for cheap.

Was it the safest thing to send in pictures of myself, along with most of my personal information to a slightly sketchy website for a little extra cash?

Probably not; but I did it anyway.

I put together a portfolio and sent it in on a whim.

A week later they actually called back and asked to meet me in person.

I was this skinny 20 year old, wearing all black, sitting in a slightly dank smelling office, praying that I didn’t screw up.

I guess they liked me though cause two weeks later, I was doing online modeling for fashion lines that were just starting out, but couldn’t really afford to hire big time models quite yet.

Didn’t pay a whole lot, but it was fun and good experience.

I actually rented my first tiny apartment on those paychecks.

My parents didn't really care what I was doing, as long as I was taking decent care of myself and called to check in every once in awhile.

Slowly, I started to move up the modeling chain and got a few little job offers here and there.

Till one day I was called into the manager's office.

I was sure I’d fucked up.

Turns out a big time designer had called in and wanted to meet with me.

A year later and I’m now one of the top three working for Tasha Akins.

The 'top three' usually consists of two models and one photographer.

Not to sound egocentric, but it's basically the best of the best.

In case you didn’t know, Tasha Akins is one of the top leading brand name clothes designers in the country.

And by ‘country’, I mean basically every country.

She’s absolutely brilliant.

Besides her unique ideas, that seem like they shouldn't work but somehow always do, Tasha is mostly known for her intimacy with her staff.

Most models in fashion never even meet the designers of the clothes they are branded with.

With a company this big there is obviously no way she could possibly be friend every person she works with, but Tasha definitely makes an effort to.

When I first joined on the modeling team, she told me that the thing that had impressed her the most was; even with how young I was, I was able to tell a story with every picture I was in.

She was looking for a model with something new and fresh, and apparently I had ‘it’.

Being one of the top three means, we have a few more responsibilities then the others.

We mostly get picked for traveling photoshoots, helping train in new models or photographers, or if the company has a new idea they aren’t quite sure about they’ll run it by a few of the more experienced models to get their input.

It’s definitely a different kind of system then most fashion lines use, but hey, it works.

I suppose you don’t get to the top by being like everyone else.

Oh god, I just realized I never even introduced myself.

Real smooth.

My name’s Daniel Howell.

Well, that’s my professional name anyway, sounds a bit stuffy actually.

You can just call me Dan.

I walked over to the fully stocked self-serve coffee bar in the corner of the room, giving it a full glance over from one end to the other.

There were three coffee pots full of silk french roast coffee.

Regular, decaf, and…. some weird blonde roast thing?

Along with every sweet flavored thing you could imagine to stir into it.

Anything and everything from just 2% skimmed milk to ’s’mores on a hot summers evening’ flavored creamer.

I personally just like it black.

Like my soul.

Wow, you never really grow out of your emo faze do you?

I grab a white porcelain mug and fill it, bringing it up to my lips as I turn around, leaning against the wall next to me.

We just finished up a shoot at our studio based in uptown London.

It’s only about a 15 minute Uber drive from my flat, which is nice.

The design team had a few new additions to the Autumn line we needed to get pictures of before they sent them out to be published.

It was just me and Ashlyn this round, so it wasn’t really a big deal.

Ashlyn is the other top three model.

She’s pretty awesome actually.

Her long red hair, pale complexion, freckles, all paired with piercing green eyes makes her absolutely perfect for fall shoots.

In this type of work, I found out quite quickly it’s way easier to not get attached to anything or anyone.

So that’s what I did, have for most of my life.

Though turns out Ashlyn had other ideas.

When I first started, she was set as my "partner model”, which normally wasn’t something they would do with a newbie that fast.

Basically your partner model is the person your looks are the most compatible with on film, or they think gives off the best kind of visuals when paired together.

So they’re usually the person that you’re always doing your shoots with.

It’s kinda like having assigned seating.

But with a person...?

Anyway.

On a everyday basis they wouldn’t put a new model with their partner model until they’ve had a few trial runs with other people.

Especially place them with an experienced top three.

Tasha however, said from the very second she saw my pictures she already knew she wanted me to pair with Ashlyn.

So I did.

From the moment I met her, she was extremely friendly and was very avid that we hang out.

I just figured she was just hitting on me and I don’t swing that way, plus I didn’t really do “friends”, so I said I had plans.

About a month after I ran out of plausible excuses of why I couldn’t go for drinks after work and I caved.

Turned out not only was she NOT interested in me that way, she had a boyfriend who was actually one of the photographers.

The top three photographer to be exact.

She tells me now that she saw something “special” about me and took it as a challenge to be friend me.

We actually had a ton in common and we’ve been friends ever since.

Ashlyn smiled brightly at the new models who had come in to watch our shoot as they start to file out the studio door.

I usually leave the formalities like that for her to do.

Not only does she actually enjoy doing it, it means I don’t bloody have to.

I take another sip from my cup as she gives them one more small wave before walking over to me.

“That went well.” She says with a laugh, grabbing a water bottle out of the bucket of ice on the table.

I give her a small grin, “They actually took notes. Like they pulled out paper and took actual fucking notes.”

She smiles at me as she tries to open the cap to her water, “Hey now, you were a newbie once yourself, you know. Cut them some slack.”

She struggles a second more before letting out a defeated sigh and holds out her unopened water bottle.

“Can you please open this? The stupid ice made the cap all slippery.”

I give her a small shrug, “I mean I could…”

She narrows her eyes at me, trying to look mean and serious.

And failing miserably.

“Daniel Howell, you open this water.”

I give her a small smile in return, “And what would I do that for?”

She thinks for a second before her eyes go wide with an idea.

“Or I’ll have Drew only take pics of your bad side.”

I let out a fake gasp and place my hand over my heart.

“You wouldn’t. You would use your boyfriend for such evil?”

She just smiles big and nods.

We both break into laughter as I take the bottle from her hand and give it a firm twist, handing it back to her.

“Where is Drew anyway? I thought he got back yesterday.”

She takes a big swig of the clear liquid and screws the cap back on, “Big meeting apparently. Something about going somewhere for something, sometime next week.”

I laugh and push myself off the wall, “Ah, I fully understand now. Gee, Ashlyn I should always come to you when I need to be filled in on stuff. I feel so enlightened now. “

Ashlyn giggles, punching my arm, “Oi, shut up! He didn’t really say.”

I smile at her, kissing her cheek lightly before quickly slipping past her and towards the dressing rooms, “Tell yourself what you need to, dear.”

I can hear her let out a sigh of fake frustration.

Irritating her brings me more joy then it probably should.

“He didn’t tell me anything, okay! “ She hollers at me.

A small smile finding it’s way to my lips as I continue to walk without turning around.

“So you keep saying!” I holler back.

I give my pant leg cuff a final roll so it sits equal to the other one just above my ankle.

Standing, I grab my backpack off the hook on the back of the door and swing it over one shoulder.

I head out of the dressing room, wandering out into the mostly empty studio.

Ashlyn is standing by the clothes racks on her phone already back in her normal clothes.

How did she change so bloody fast?

The room is pretty deserted except for a few of the staging crew, switching out lighting for the next shoot tomorrow.

I make my way over to her when I see Tasha peek her head around the studio door.

“Oh good.” She says, breaking into a smile, “You’re both still here.”

We both give a smile in return as she walks over to us.

“How did the meeting go?” Ashlyn asks, gently crossing her arms across her chest while straightening her posture ever so slightly.

I’m almost positive she did it without even thinking.

Kinda becomes a habit.

“It went very well actually. Remember there being talk about opening a new branch?”

We both nod, giving each other a quick glance before turning our attention back to Tasha.

“Well, if all goes according to plan, we will be opening that branch in New Orleans.”

“That sounds awesome.” I say with a firm nod.

Ashlyn smiles and nods in agreement, “It really does.”

Tasha’s smile widens, her eyes meeting mine then Ashlyn’s, “I’m glad you both think so because I was hoping you would be up for a little over seas trip next week? I have a photographer in mind who actually lives in the area and does phenomenal work.”

“I think New Orleans is absolutely beautiful this time of year, so I’m in.” Ashlyn says with a grin, dragging her gaze over to meet mine.

“Sounds like fun. I’m down.”

“Wonderful!” Tasha exclaims, clapping her hands together. “Oh and this photographer is kind of new to the scene, so take good care of him for me, yeah?”

“Absolutely.” Ashlyn replies quickly before I can say anything.

“Perfect. I'll send you both the flight details. I will try and meet you there shortly.” and with a smile, Tasha spins on her heels and heads out the door.

As soon as I’m sure she’s out of ear shot, I let out a long breath I didn’t realize I had been holding.

“Dan, you okay?” Ashlyn asks with a raised eyebrow, her tone laced with concern.

I shrug bringing a hand up to run it threw my hair, “Yeah, it’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

She just looks at me, her eyes swirling with disbelief.

“Ash, I’m fine really.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t.”

I give her a weak smile and pull my bag strap a little higher up my shoulder, “Drinks?”

She grins and links her arm around mine, “Drinks.”