Chapter Text
A view from a camera lens differs from watching with one’s very eyes. There are many things a person has to take into account when taking a photograph, for example, composition, and lighting being another important element. Of course the subject is crucial, and in a museum there’s many of them to spare. From statues to paintings, artifacts and fabrics; a museum holds a recollection of history through the arts.
Photography is one such way to preserve art throughout the passage of time. As they say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and a photograph can be a testament of that. Perhaps one day he’ll have his own exhibit in a place such as this. He only hopes to be alive to experience it. A great number of artists earn success and recognition after they come to pass. After his death none of it will matter because in passing he cannot photograph. Once he is dead he will not be able to take the image of death into a dark room and unveil it. He will not be able to show the world at large just what comes after death, or the things he will come to see after.
Death can only be captured through the perspective of the living. The sadness that is associated with death does not elude artists. Many artists have tried to understand death through their grief and loss, causing creation inspired by troubled thoughts. Many talented individuals humanized death through their medium, while others fell victims to their own upset mind.
In death Dimitri will not have the same opportunity he has now, which is why he pursues his passion through that which is living. Life is full of splendor and with his lens he hopes to see it all.
If he is to pick a preference it’s photographing people. Humans are diverse when it comes to expressions and characteristics, no one person is the same. Considerably, he tends to gravitate towards those who stick out in their surroundings. Like this individual for instance. Who appears lithe underneath thick layers and height only augmented by the boost of his heels. The stranger stands, gaze upwards as he marvels at the mural above him. The yellow of his turtleneck suits the undertones of his skin, and the shade of his long coat adds to the warmth of his hair. A dark and rich palette, the man plays with colors that best suit him. He’s akin to a model, so picturesque in a sea of people. Everyone swarms around the stranger like fishes in the ocean. The blur behind the lense is everyone else moving, continuity like the flow of time. The only person who remains unmoving is the person at the center of the shot, the subject of Dimitri’s next picture— the focus.
Nothing is remarkable about the pose itself. The man’s arms fixate on his sides as his feet remain painstakingly still. The figure himself is completely unaware of what’s occurring around him and that’s the beauty of it. He’s the last grain of sand in a clock, the others already rushed before him.
Time lapses for both of them as they each watch masterpieces. The stranger views a classic masterpiece that’s been enjoyed and appreciated by countless others. A part of history that has transgressed its era. Timeless in a sense.
On the other hand, the masterpiece Dimitri watches is one that is in the making.
Dimitri’s compelled to take a picture, so he points his camera and waits for the opportune moment. A photographer knows how indispensable the right moment is. It’s an active role, one that requires movement and searching for proper lighting, and waiting for the right shadows to set.
A proper photographer knows balance and placement. A photographer also accounts for various variables to still make their work appear spontaneous and effortless. That’s why many think it’s easy work. That it’s just a click, an ounce of pressure, therefore it’s not worth much.
Undervalued. That’s why he cannot commit to it professionally. This is a hobby to keep his spare hours busy. Through his pictures he connects with his audience. He exposes them to new locations, people, and things outside of what they know. How would you describe the beach to someone who has only lived inside a metropolis? Words work well to describe but film cannot be beat when a single frame can hold a thousand words.
A museum is not as liberating as a beach, they are enclosed but just as scenic. A great place to photograph and learn. An excellent place to find inspiration among those who are considered masters in their craft.
It isn’t a surprise to Dimitri that he manages to find his inspiration so quickly. Often it is a spark that ushers him into action, and in his case, the spark is the flash of the camera. Dimitri waits until everything aligns to take the perfect picture and the results are exemplary.
His subject is glowing, more vibrantly in the picture he’s taken compared to real life. The high point of his cheeks, the bone of his brows, and the tip of his nose all glistens in a warm cast. Is the flash of his camera? That also managed to illuminate the dark depths of the stranger's eyes to bring forth that innocent glint, akin to wonder when gazing upon the spectacular.
Instantaneous, bright and golden, the flash of his camera probably gave away his location. There’s no doubt the stranger took notice of Dimitri. The flash of a camera is disturbingly bright for anyone not to be aware. Regardless if his intentions upset the stranger, the photographer is too captivated by the end result to notice any eyes on him. He studies the photograph as best he can, and only looks up to compare the real thing to what’s on the screen.
The colors on his camera are brighter compared to the reality his eyes see. He can also pinpoint faces in the background moving from one collection of arts to the next. He can describe details that have otherwise been blurred by his camera for being unable to capture movement. Something else he did not capture in the shot is the portrait of the Byleth Lisa. Only mere feet away, she happened to be blocked by a group the time the shot was taken. Though now that the space is relatively clear, Dimitri thinks that the painting will make a great addition to the photograph.
Now aware of her placement, Dimitri brings his camera to his eye to ready his next shot. What he finds through the lens is that the stranger is looking straight at him. The man’s expression is hard to read. There is no indication that leads Dimitri to believe that he is upset, on the other hand, there is also no indication that tells him if what this stranger feels is associated with flattery.
Dimitri lowers his camera to reveal his face, his lips partly spread to breathe. His hair is styled half-way up, maintaining most of the longer hair pieces that frame his face away from his eyes. In rebuttal, the stranger digs his hands into his pockets, further hiding what little bit of skin he has left to show. All that’s left uncovered is his beautiful face. A face that is without imperfections. He is impeccable, and visually engaging in the most irresistible of ways. When he walks he does so with such elegance that he lures Dimitri’s eyes to him. There’s refinement present in his gait, perfectly modish as he walks confidently to the Byleth Lisa.
The man’s quite receptive, relying only on body cues to determine that Dimitri wants to take a picture of him by the Byleth Lisa. Quite impressive considering they haven’t exchanged as much as a single word.
Dimitri understands his role once the stranger poses next to the portrait. One leg bent to press his foot against the wall, looking away to show the side of his face. The edge of his mandible is softened by the hairs that grow there, groomed thin to keep his appearance youthful. The stranger takes one hand out of his pocket and keeps the other one in, settling on this pose until a picture is taken.
This gallery is Dimitr’s muse’s stage and he will not be outshined by a still image.
Dimitri nods in understanding and moves to take the picture. The flash is instantaneous. Numerous shots come afterwards, copies of the same pose time and time again, and with each flash that transpired, the closer Dimitri steps. The stranger's eyes show a glimpse of surprise when Dimitri gets down on one knee, but soon his eyes subside into professionalism as he pays the change in posture no mind. The stranger continues to look away as Dimitri angles his camera upwards to play with perspective.
When the last flash sets off the stranger alters his pose, raising both his hands to his head, slicking back his hair and stopping midway to give the photographer another photo-op. Dimitri rises to his feet immediately determining that this is a shot best taken head on. The man turns his face to meet the camera, his soft eyes turning sharp with the brightness of the camera.
This man is someone who knows how to engage with a camera. He knows which angles flatter him best, and knows how to move and interact with his surroundings. He doesn’t need to be given orders, he can adapt to the situation as it best fits him. How remarkable, it makes Dimitri wonder if he is a model, if he dares to be so assumptious.
The stranger surprises him again by bending his knees, he lowers himself, sliding down the wall and places his elbows atop his knees as his arms stretch outwards. He looks up to the painting, kindling a connection to the artwork with his eyes alone. Dimitri steps far enough back to get the entirety of the scene into a photog, and once the picture is taken, the man repositions himself once again. This time bring his hand to his face, a long digit curled in front of his lower lip lost in thought. He looks forward now, his long stare extending far beyond the camera —he seems lost in concentration.
Dimitri’s been given more than he bargained for. When he took that initial picture he never expected for this stranger to humor him as much as he had. He’s been given such great material to work with, he hopes not to disappoint. He doesn’t want to fall short of this man’s expectations. He would like to prove his worth in hopes of one day doing a proper collaboration with the man, but even if nothing more comes out of this, he won’t let this be a wasted opportunity. Dimitri’s grateful for the time he’s been given.
Overcoming his train of thought, Dimitri paces closer and gets down on both knees. For this photograph he wants this person to be the primary focus. To turn this into a black and white picture will make it spectacular. The solemn facial expression will really suit the melancholy of the color palette. He presses the button and perfection is once again achieved. A lonely figure filling his screen from head to knee.
Dimitri begins to look through the camera roll, searching for the very first picture to show the man. It surprises Dimitri when the stranger shows disinterest. It seems that it’s still too early to call it quits. His muse is not yet satisfied with the amount of work they've done. Nevermind that there are others crowding around, waiting for these two to vacate and to finally get their pictures of the famous portrait.
One more can’t hurt, right?
The stranger rises to his feet and Dimitri obediently copies him, shifting to stand in front of him as the other readies himself for the next pose. He stands in front of the painting with a pose that mimics the portrait. He’s in the forefront of the shot, the Byleth Lisa paling in comparison to the living replica. And just as it’s true for the painting, no matter where Dimitri adjusts himself to take the picture, the stranger’s eyes seem to follow him. With the man demonstrating a smile just as soft, eyes just as kind, and hands that portray exactitude, Dimitri takes the picture. Finally, the man displays satisfaction.
Following the amicable silence between them is a step, one taken closer to the photographer. Up to this point Dimitri has failed to notice the height difference shared between the two of them. The stranger looks up at him, a soft smile still present as he stands besides Dimitri. The smile itself is mesmerizing and Dimitri misconstrues its meaning. He lifts his camera slowly, too drawn to the smile to pull away. He wants to photograph it and keep it forever amidst a frame.
However, it appears that his plan isn't exactly agreed upon. The stranger reaches for his forearm to lower it, thus getting the camera away from his face. He isn’t aggressive, the man’s surprisingly gentle in his gesture. He chuckles bemusedly at the shift in the photographer's expression. A shift from mesmerization to complete and utter embarrassment for getting hung up on a mere smile.
The stranger witnesses the rosy tint high on the photographer’s cheeks and spares him an apology. “I think that’s enough for now.” The man’s voice is more playful than Dimitri originally anticipates, adding a lighthearted ambiance. He’s yet to refrain from touch, still claiming Dimitri’s arm through a gentle press as he guides him elsewhere not too distant.
They find themselves in a corner, secluded from the majority of people. Not private by any means but they make use of what they have. The stranger lowers his hand, fingers tracing Dimitri’s forearm until his caress meets wrist. From there his touch becomes faint, pulling away barely, the ghost of his touch leaving goosebumps on Dimitri’s skin. Dimitri can still feel his presence hover, exuding the warmth he finds himself yearning for.
Dimitri clears his throat before speaking. “Thank you for allowing me to take pictures of you considering I never asked for your permission. Not many have been as lenient as you have.” He offers a smile, the least he can do in show of appreciation.
“I extend my generosity to those who need it most.” The response Dimitri gets is not humble by any means but it is one that attempts to be humorous. The stranger’s eyes shift to the camera, for the first time expressing curiosity over the contents within. Though before they can continue, Dimitri feels as though he should introduce himself seeing as they don’t know each other's names. It’s courteous, but above all else, it’s an uneasy feeling to speak to someone not knowing how to refer to them.
“My name is Dimitri by the way, and I hope I'm not being too forward when I say this, but, you have a real knack for modeling.” Dimitri speaks without the nuisance of a lie. He only hopes it does not come off as offensive.
The other blinks, unphased by his comment. It will not surprise Dimitri to know if he were a model, or at the very least, heard that same line before.
The man seems to take Dimitri’s comment with a grain of salt, failing to sound bashful when speaking. “Well Dimitri, you aren’t the first to tell me so.” His demeanor fluctuates flirtatiously, using a wink to finalize his sentence.
The things Dimitri has said did not bloat the man's ego, but empowers him to act boldly. He takes claim of Dimitri’s wrist, raising the hand that holds the camera to ask for permission. “May I see?” A simple request that falls behind his fingers as they ease bluntly over the creases of Dimitri’s palm, intrusively trying to gain a way to the camera.
Dimitri has not overlooked how this man did not omit his name. Matters such as these shouldn’t be taken personally, he’s not entitled to know more than he is offered. The man allowed himself to be photographed by Dimitri, that is more than enough. However, it would be a lie if he is to say that he is not bummed out.
He attempts his best to hide his disappointment, occupying himself with the skirmish feeling on his skin. Being held onto makes Dimitri submissive, and that feeling in itself makes the hairs on his skin stand at attention. Dimitri cannot afford to be overly compliant, he almost lost the grip on his camera when his muscles unwind under the man’s touch. He flexes his arms, not for show, but to tighten his hold on the camera.
There’s no doubt that the other man has felt the tensening of Dimitri’s muscles. His face shows awareness with a hint of intrigue. Suave hands move upwards, fondling the expanse of skin until hands meet bicep. At least he has the decency to not overly fawn. His eyes drawn to the camera to feign disinterest at the swell of muscle his hands are presently occupied with. Dimitri pretends to be unaware or better yet, unbothered by the fondling occurring underneath the scenes.
It’s not overly obvious, the man is discreet. He’s got his arms around Dimitri’s, much like an armpiece. Similar to a decorative spectacle, he gets attention from others, whether it be intentional or not. Perhaps it is their close proximity that causes such a stir, or perhaps the man’s appearance is the factor, as is the case with Dimitri.
A woman with pink hair follows Dimitri’s example and photographs them from a distance. A pop of her bubblegum as she taps away at her phone, snickering to herself. He doesn’t know how he should feel about this. As a photographer he is always behind the camera, never in front. Being taken pictures of in public is invasive, but he has no say in the matter considering everything that has led up to this point. And if it means being held on to like this, then he can tolerate as many pictures as it takes. Besides, it appears much of this has gone unnoticed by his companion as Dimitri unveils the images to him.
Dimitri scrolls back to the very first image, allowing enough time for the other to completely immerse himself in the details. He seems to approve of the picture, nodding as his thoughts become outspoken. “This is very good.” A simple statement, one that comes with a hint of awe. He then tilts his head towards Dimitri’s shoulder, using him for comfort as the next picture comes into frame. The second picture appears to be underwhelming in contrast with the first. No words to spare, just a hum of acknowledgement for what it is. The third photograph, however, receives a warmer reception.
The man voices his favorable impression of the photograph with some choice words. “I like that one.” He claims, squeezing Dimitri’s arm tighter. Dimitri continues to cycle through the pictures, stopping on an image where the man faces the camera. He’s not as haste to comment, reserving his opinion until he’s done analyzing the piece. Each individual is their own worst critic, and despite Dimitri not noticing any flaws within the pictures, he’s certain the man in question has found various imperfections.
“This one’s nice too.” His line flows effortlessly out of him. Tender sounding as it lacks criticism for the photographer. He then turns his head to look at Dimitri with great silence. His mouth has been moving formally with short responses, vague enough to keep anyone wanting beside him with his borderline flirtatious comments. And yet his eyes tell a different story. They're focus is on what lies beyond formality. He’s studying Dimitri with his calculative stare.
“I’m impressed. You managed to figure out what angles work for me and which don’t in such a short period of time. You have a good eye for detail, Dimitri, and that’s important in a photographer.” The words sound and feel genuine once they reach Dimitri’s ears. He has given a faint smile to go alongside his words, hoping they go a long way to nurture the blond’s love for photography.
There’s no doubt in Dimitri’s mind that he speaks with sincerity, he just wishes that the man would be sincere enough to at least offer his name. He wants to know it desperately, he wants to share that name with the world even if it only means a handful of followers.
The man moves to press the forward button on the camera until he reaches the most recent picture of him imitating the Byleth Lisa. “This one is my favorite” He laughs at himself, mocking the unoriginality of the stance. Everyone who has walked these galleries has probably done the same, but it matters not as long as it’s fun.
The press of the man’s hands no longer limits Dimitri, releasing him in exchange for a bit of space. He roams near the camera, ogling at the screen as Dimitri cycles through the pictures again. As they get a second watch, the man speaks again, a humble sentence that sends Dimitri in disbelief. “You’ve made me look flattering in every picture.”
Dimitri has done nothing. The man looks flattering simply because he is. Whether he chooses to ignore his own contribution or simply isn’t aware of it, it’s not up for Dimitri to take responsibility for it. So he calls it how he sees it, honesty always being his chosen path. “The credit is all yours, you’re very photogenic.” A quality that not many possess. A person can be attractive, but it doesn’t guarantee that they’ll look equally so behind a lens.
Dimitri is one of those people. He dislikes having his picture taken. He dislikes looking at himself. He is his own worst critic afterall, he knows all of his imperfections and he doesn’t necessarily want to keep looking at them either. He finds himself disproportionate. He's put on muscle but it’s not properly distributed. His legs lack the same build up his upper body has. He’s tall with long extremities, and again although he’s muscular, it doesn’t make him robust.
He’s self-conscious about his appearance, like many he’s sure, and no vote of confidence can make that disappear. Despite Dimitri’s insecurities, the stranger makes an attempt to uplift his confidence. “You’re not bad looking yourself.” It catches Dimitri off guard, only because it seems as though this man has tapped directly into his thoughts, when in reality, it is just a follow up to what Dimitri previously said to him. Nonetheless, that was not the end of it, this stranger has more to say in regards to Dimitri’s appearance.
“Tall and handsome, you have the means to be a fashion model. Have you considered it?” Just as that is being said, the man’s hands trespass by touching Dimitri’s hair. He curls a blond piece around his finger and pulls, finger swiftly gliding through until he runs out of hair. Then he motions his hands to the hairs of Dimitri’s nape, stroking, and Dimitri is so impressionable he allows himself to be led, neck craning downwards closer to the shorter man.
No matter how hard the stranger tries to convince him, he cannot undo years of depreciation with a compliment. Dimitri doesn't want to get into the gritty details, much less with a person he doesn’t know, but Dimitri owes him an answer so an answer he will give it. “It takes a certain type of person to be in front of the camera.” And that type of person isn’t him.
Still, this man seems to have a differing opinion. A different perspective that shadows the less preferable thing Dimitri wants to hear. “Anyone can be in front of the camera, you just need to have the confidence.”
Dimitri speaks softly. “Easy for you to say.” He’s resentful over how fragile he makes himself to be with such a cold phrase. Getting under his skin doesn’t take much, but he shouldn’t get so defensive over something so harmless. He’s sure it’s easy for the other to say such things considering his appearance. Of course this man has confidence, he exhibits it in everything he does, so much so that he over exudes it.
As to not end things on such a rude note, Dimitri adds, “I'm quite content behind the camera.” Hopefully with that, his companion understands his stance. It seems to work because the other does not comment, just delivers a hum.
Still, it’s too soon for the adventure between them to be over. There’s many things that can be said to fill the silence between them, and since Dimitri isn’t speaking, his companion will. “Which one is your favorite?” The question comes off a bit vague. What favorite could this man be referring to? Favorite photographer? Favorite piece in this museum? And sensing Dimitri’s confusion through his quizzical expression, the man rephrases his question, exerting patience with every word said. “I told you my favorite picture, which one is yours?”
Oh, pictures . The ones taken today. Yes, that makes sense.
Dimitri starts looking through the photographs again, giving each picture his undivided attention. He’s actually putting a great amount of thought into his selection and finds himself torn between two choices. Both, coincidentally enough, have the man looking up towards a famous creation. His first choice is the first photograph taken. The one where his muse encompasses the entire purpose of the photograph. It is the lack of awareness towards his surroundings as he is engulfed by a deep sense of artistry. The other picture that bids for his favoritism is also a good contender. It is the one where the man is looking up towards the Byleth Lisa. He is not the sole focus in this photograph, this is something he shares with the painting. Both figures in a composition that compromises their need to be the focal point. Together they are present to the observer as pivotal elements of the photograph. Regardless, what sells this image is the man’s expression. It is one of devotion as one would similarly give to a religious figure.
The photographer weighs his options, and through great consideration, he’s made his choice. “My favorite is this one.” He reverts to the image that initiated this all. The very first picture. The photograph that attracted him to who he now considers his new muse. It is not an easy choice by any means. This man does not make it easy when he delivers so many great options.
He receives Dimitri with a nod of agreement. Not unexpected considering that at one point even he said to have liked it. “I really like that one too.” He tells Dimitri as his thumb rubs the tension loose from his neck. The strain Dimitri feels is one caused by being in a position for too long, but nevermind that, the deft motions of nimble fingers release him from his strain. He’s at ease now, enough to comply with the next request.
“Do you mind sending it to me?” The man politely asks, giving away a presumptive smile as if he already knows the answer. Of course Dimitri will say yes. There’s no trouble in following through with the request, it’s just a matter of how he will send the images over.
The simplest way that comes to mind is through email. Once he gets home and is able to transfer the files to his computer he can send them with the best resolution. Though first, he will need to acquire this man’s email address. “I do not mind.” Dimitri calmly replies as he temporarily hands the camera over to free his hands.
He pulls out his phone and goes directly to the notes app to jot down the information. “I’ll send you all of the pictures. What’s your email?” He has both his thumbs on standby, ready to type at a second’s notice.
A scoff makes Dimitri look up from his screen and finds the man tucking the camera underneath his arm before cockily mocking Dimitri. “Email? Really? Seriously, who uses email nowadays for this kind of stuff.” There’s a smugness to him that Dimitri just doesn't understand. Emails are pivotal in terms of exchanging documents, it fits both personal and business usage, so why is he being ridiculed for going towards the most sensible solution? Unless, this isn’t an option the other man wants to hear.
Those who have more modern preferences prefer to navigate social platforms, so perhaps that’s the route the other man is expecting? “Well, how about Instagram?” Dimitri offers. A rather fitting choice since the platform specializes in image sharing with users across the globe. Dimitri then corrects himself, reworking his question to take into consideration whether the person has an account or not.“ Do you have instagram?”
He is told bluntly to try again. The man’s expression gives nothing away, so Dimitri resorts to his last option. If even that yields no results he can always ask the man what he prefers, but something tells him that the other won’t budge with an answer so easily. From the very short time they've known one another, Dimitri deduces that his muse is quite eccentric, and thus, won’t let this game of guess end quickly.
“I can text it to you, if you'd like.” As far as methods go, it doesn’t get much more direct than this. With this alternative Dimitri will have his number, and as far as privacy goes, this is by far the most invasive.
The man before him purses his mouth in a smirk, instigating something untrue his way. “So this is what you do, you take pictures of strangers so you can then get their numbers. I didn’t think you had it in you, Dimitri.”
This falsely made assumption does not bide well with Dimitri. He’s no schemer, he’s just pursuing his passion with no ulterior motives. “I’m not that type of guy.” He says defensively, speaking more abrasively than he’s done thus far. He wants to clear up the misconception but his tongue clammors with all the things he needs to say.
Knowing Dimitri to be tongue-tied, the man voices instead, “you’re the type of guy who can definitely get my number.” To make matters worse, he shamelessly bats his eyelash Dimitri’s way.
Wait —what?
Did he hear this correctly? Did he understand this correctly? Was this all just a bit to get Dimitri’s number? Unreal. If he wants Dimitri's number he just needs to ask. Why make him guess when Dimitri’s no mind reader? No reason other than to make Dimitri look foolish for his own entertainment.
Dimitri’s face is red due to a mix of emotions. He’s flustered, frustrated and overwhelmed all at once. Others have given their numbers to him before, sure, but not like this, and not by someone so handsome. It makes him stammer to think he’s so underqualified for this exchange. “O-oh. Okay.” His flat delivery fits for such an underwhelming horrid response. It is absolutely terrible how disinterested it makes him sound when it’s quite the opposite, in fact. Smooth Dimitri, very smooth, he inwardly reprimands himself.
He takes a deep breath and exhales with it all of his apprehensions. It’s not like things can worsen from here on out. Dimitri goes to his contact list to add a new contact, and the first thing to grab his attention is the name segment. If he prefaces with this he might get this man’s name. “Can I have your name to add it to my contact list?”
There’s a hint of hesitation initially, but eventually the man relents. “Claude.” He barely makes an audible sound when he becomes too soft spoken. The man shows great control over the volume of his voice, careful to not speak too loudly amongst the surrounding individuals. It confirms Dimitri’s earlier suspicion of the secrecy being intentional.
Dimitri barely hears him when he discloses his name. The sound of everyone else talking unfortunately overpowers him. Dimitri wants to make sure he gets it correct so he repeats what he heard, hesitating in his loudness as he follows the other’s caution. “Cloud?” He repeats. What a unique name. It can very well be an alias, but in this day and age someone naming their child Cloud isn’t surprising.
“Claude.” The man corrects. Better annunciating the name, going as far as to even provide the proper spelling for Dimitri. “C-L-A-U-D-E.” Claude, so that’s his name. It is no less unique the second time around. Claude bites his bottom lip, preventing the corners of his mouth from forming a smile. He seems in disbelief of the situation, as if this is the first time he’s ever had to spell his name. He’s a good sport about it though, never once giving Dimitri a hard time for it.
Dimitri is careful to type it out, erasing his mistakes whenever he mispress a button. It’s not easy typing on a tiny keyboard when his thumbs are so much bigger in comparison. “Got it.” Dimitri replies, quickly adding a camera emoticon next to the name to help him remember. “Now, your number.”
Claude fetches Dimitri’s camera from underneath his arm, working the strap to put it on his shoulder. The strap crosses Claude’s chest, camera hangs proximal to his hip. As to not have it swinging around, Claude steadies it by gripping the part of the strap nearest to the camera. Dimitri appreciates how Claude treats his item, with great care as if it were his own. Each move is deliberate, cautious, as to not even get a single scratch on it.
Claude’s lips part to speak, but before the first digit is even shared, they both hear a cackle at their expense. On cue both men turn around to see the woman whom Dimitri previously spotted taking a picture of them. She’s clapping, as if giving thanks for a most entertaining performance. Who even is this woman? They haven't done anything that merits this reaction, so it’s very confusing for Dimitri to witness.
She comments, “you guys are painful to look at.” The way she regards them is overly familiar. Dimitri puts two and two together when she begins to walk with the same flare as Claude does. Not a blunder in sight as she moves with her tall heels, as if it is second nature to her. The arch of her feet give her a boost of height as she proceeds to stand closely to Claude, blowing her bubblegum nice and wide until it pops. The sound makes Claude’s eye twitch.
The nameless woman proceeds to chew her gum loudly, not bothering to hide how she evaluates Dimitri. Going as far as to walk circles around him, her stare is dispassionate, and paired with the foreboding sound of her heels, it makes Dimitri’s stomach clench with unease.
Claude scolds her in Dimitri’s defense, aware of how uncomfortable her behavior makes him feel. “Hilda stop, leave him alone.” Claude says, placing his palm to the side of his head, as if nursing a headache.
He appreciates Claude trying to stick up for him, but this is something Dimitri has to take care of on his own. He can’t allow this kind of behavior to thrive, for his own sake, and for Claude’s. If this Hilda person cannot see how her behavior is affecting those around her then she’s very self-centered, and he’s not going to allow her to walk over them both. The best choice for Dimitri is to engage with her directly. “Can I help you?” He asks her, annoyed by her antics.
Hilda stops on her tracks, her deadpan expression as she blows another bubble speaks volumes. The woman retreats. She’s not at all repentant, she’s seen enough and is not impressed by any of it. She puts distance between herself and Dimitri, giving him one last look over before expressing her disapproval with Claude. “I don’t know what you see in him. He’s pretty unremarkable.”
Hilda speaks about Dimitri and none of it is positive. The way she prattles on is as if Dimitri isn’t there leaves him suspended in disbelief. Imagine the things she’d say if he wasn’t around. Dimitri speaks, if only to remind her that he is in fact, still here. “Excuse me.”
Claude and Hilda look at him, both of them showing dissimilar emotions. While Claude’s face is ridden with shame, Hilda remains unconflicted with herself, blowing another bubble without bother until it pops. She waves her wrist, undertaking a cheery tone that feels even more insulting. “Like no offense.” She adds disingenuously. This is the first time she actually speaks to him and it sounds very dismissive.
To further prove her point, she adds, “even my followers think so too.” She appears proud of her statement. Followers from where? Did she upload the image she took of them somewhere? Actually, was there more than one image taken?
“Followers?” Both Claude and Dimitri repeat, but it is Claude who demands more answers. He seems worked up as he tries to get Hilda's focus solely on him.
“Hilda, what did you do?” His hand gestures are wildly animated, lastly ending up on her shoulders as he attempts to get more information out of his friend. He squeezes her, irritable as he frowns indicating he’s serious about the inquiry. “Don’t tell me you posted us online.”
“I did.” She states a matter of factly. Hilda pulls out her cell phone from her rather expensive bag, chewing on her gum as she continues to scroll through the device until she finds what she is looking for. She turns the device around to show Claude whilst with her other hand, twirls her hair around her finger. “The post gained a lot of interaction, and very quickly too!”
Claude looks wide eyed at the screen, mouth agape as he is left speechless. Not an easy feat to accomplish he’s sure, and just when he was beginning to question if there is anything that can take Claude out of his element.
This drives Dimitri to curiosity, but as he approaches, Hilda pulls her phone away. He is left out of the know, and considering that it is his face that is circulating the internet, he is owed more than a cold shoulder.
“You two are quite the trending topic.” Hilda comments as she puts her phone back into her bag. Insistently as she chews her gum, the smack of her lips is harder to ignore than the huge inconvenience she’s caused for the two men beside her. “And you.” She looks at Dimitri expectantly, “you’re welcome for making you famous.” Hilda expresses all too casually with a flick of her long, gorgeous hair.
What is there to be grateful for? When did Dimitri ask to be, quote-on-quote, famous? He wants a peaceful life where he’s able to explore his creativity. Besides, he cannot imagine this girl having a lot of influence when she acts so immaturely. On top of that, she doesn’t look much older than him.
Now that he’s been given time to think and formulate an argument, he talks back ungratefully, as Hilda will perceive it. “You did not have permission to take my photo, much less upload it to the web. Please take it down.”
Hilda, in return, gives an audible sound of disgust. Not one for hiding her annoyance, she rolls her eyes sarcastically. “So?” She chews her gum before adding more cohesiveness to her response. “You didn't get my dear Claude's permission either when you took a picture of him.”
Now what she’s saying is partly true. Claude did not give his verbal consent, that much is true, but as far as non-verbal consent is involved, Claude did give his unconditional cooperation. Nevertheless, two wrongs don’t make a right.
Claude appears at the end of his wits when speaking, his patience running thin. “Hilda, you had absolutely no right to drag Dimitri into this.” He shakes his head moodily to stress his point. “Did you not think about what will happen once people figure out where we are? The harassment he’ll get?!”
“It’ll be fiiinneee.” She counters, “you’re overreacting.” Hilda flaunts her lack of care by reaching for Claude’s face, stretching his skin until he's no longer shown frowning. “You worry too much. No one’s going to figure out where we are based on a picture.” Even if Claude’s face is currently unable to show emotion, the murderous intent his eyes eminate is formidable.
“Now stop worrying, you’ll get wrinkles.” Hilda reasons, doing the opposite of what she vouches for by pinching his cheeks and causing creases on his skin. To Hilda, this is a laughing matter, which further works to vex Claude.
Claude pries her hands from his face, his cheeks red from being cosetted. He opens his mouth to speak, the way he’s already showing disfavor hints as to what’s already on his mind.
“There they are!” Is yelled from across the space they inhabit. They all turn to find a flock of photographers at the end of their stares. They clamor as they rush to them, flashing their cameras in overabundance causing a blinding effect. Dimitri shadows his eyes with the back of his hand, wincing as the lights keep getting nearer and nearer. Lots of different things are going through Dimitri’s head as we speak, jumbling his thought process, until the most prominent question is if they are paparazzi.
“Hilda! Hilda! Can you tell us more about what you’re wearing?”
“Is it from your newest collection?”
“Khalid, Are you romantically involved with the man in the photograph?”
“Who is the man shown with you on social media?”
“Is he a friend? A lover?”
These questions come rapidly. A question following the next, so on and so forth. It stems from different sources all speaking nearly at once. Intrusive in their questions towards the pair of friends. The only upside to this is that Dimitri is spared from their hounding, probably due to his status as a nobody.
Dimitri sees Hilda reach for Claude’s wrist, pulling him aside to rush him out without acknowledging the paparazzi. She keeps her gaze low, covering the peripheral of her vision with her hand so the photographers won’t get a decent picture of her.
She half hazardously bumps into Dimitri, hurling him into the frenzied mob of photographers. Dimitri thinks it intentional. To use him as a decoy while they make a getaway. However, Hilda does not account for Claude calling out to him. He quickly gets Dimitri’s attention despite the ambush of other voices.
Claude takes off the shoulder strap to extend his reach. He swings Dimitri’s camera in a desperate attempt to return it to him and Dimitri rushes to take a hold of it, but the group of paparazzi becomes a thick barrier that separates the two men. His hand is so close to the object of his desire, but alas it is not meant to be. Dimitri does not get there in time because the group of people that surround him pushes him in the opposite direction.
Claude appears apologetic, even mouths the apology as the distance grows between them. The moment comes where Dimitri can no longer see Claude because of the flashes. The cameras all
around serve to disorient him, blinding him even to the questions he is bombarded with.
“What is your relationship with Khalid?”
“Can you tell us your name?”
“Are you his lover?”
“How long have you known each other?”
Question after question after question. He doesn’t know who Khalid is. Are they referring to
Claude? Is Claude even his real name?
Dimitri is getting closed in by a wall of people, though far fewer as some have split off to chase after Claude and Hilda. “Get away from me!” He yells, forcing an opening as he pushes people aside. The next camera that’s brought too close to his face he pushes onto the ground and elbows the person who dares touch him. The commotion brings the attention of security, and as they rush to the scene to neutralize it, Dimitri runs around them to make his escape.
He uses the rush of adrenaline to search for Claude and Hilda. High with hope that he might still recover his camera
A voice slips into his subconscious, urging him to open his eyes, but the clutches of sleep hold him so steady he doesn’t budge. “Dimitri. Dimitri, wake up!” So then, the voice turns into tremors, stirring him in his bed until the moment he groggily opens his eyes.
The light of his bedroom burns, but adding on to that is the might of his sister’s phone screen, radiating intense light over his eyes. “Eeeel, let me sleep.” Dimitri whines while attempting to slap her phone away mid yawn, showing no interest in what she has to show him. He gave his sister explicit instructions to let him rest.
Of course he divulged the details of his entire day to her, and Edelgard being the sister she is, searched the people he encountered on the internet. They had no such luck finding a Claude that resembles the man Dimitri interacted with earlier in the day. Dimitri recalled another name being used but he hadn’t the slightest idea on how to spell it during the time of the search. Edelgard proposed to look more into Hilda, but at that point in the day, he was too exhausted from running around the museum in search of them. Yes, he went looking for them while simultaneously avoiding the paparazzi. By the time Dimitri got home his was immensely worn out and his soul crushed.
He desperately wants to recover his camera, seeing it is a gift from his father, hence the sentimental value is priceless to him. He has another motive too. In finding the pair of friends again he’d get Claude’s number. That way Dimitri can get the images over to him, and have it for personal use. However, now that Claude is in the possession of Dimitri’s camera, he won’t need to relinquish his number. He has the photographs he needs, thus putting a sad conclusion to Dimitri’s day.
He doesn't want to go into this right now. He just wants to rest. He’s only been awake no longer than a minute and his legs already throb in ache. Dimitri turns over in his bed, giving his back to Edelgard to avoid the light source she’s pestering him with.
Dimitri groans when his sister pulls the pillow from under him and wacks him with it. When one hit doesn’t achieve the desired result, she hits him again, this time a few scarce feathers fly out from his pillow. Dimitri, annoyed by his sister’s antics, makes a blind grab for the pillow and takes it off her hands. He then covers his head with the pillow, making sure to squeeze tightly around his ears so as to not hear.
“Go away.” He huffs, the pillow atop him makes him sound so winded.
Now, it is as if Edelgard threw ice cold water at his body to wake him up. “You’re making headlines.” She says, informing him of this chilling discovery. Dimitri immediately sits up, tossing the pillow and the covers aside. He snatches Edelgard’s phone from her hand. Dimitri wipes the crust from his eyes as he uses his other hand to navigate the screen.
Dimitri’s jaw drops once he reads the title of the headline: “This just in, international supermodel Khalid von Riegan caught in amorous rendezvous .” This cannot be happening , he thinks to himself, this literally cannot be happening, it is the furthest thing from the truth. Despite knowing that this publication is a lie, he cannot stop himself from reading aloud.
“Hilda Gonreil, renown fashion designer published this picture of Khalid von Rigean with an unknown man onto her instagram account, gathering the attention of her millions of followers. Hilda captioned the post with ‘love is in the air,’ confirming the romance between the two men.” The article contains a picture of the post in question, which includes Hilda’s username. Dimitri can potentially look through Hilda’s profile to find information on Claude, but for now, he’s too focused on how compromising the picture made them look. He remembers when Hilda took the photo. At the time, Claude, or should he rather say, Khalid, was clinging to his arm. The photo in question is innocent enough but media outlets have twisted its significance.
What Dimitri doesn’t account for as he frantically scrolls through the bulk of the article, is the additional pictures taken by the paparazzi.
His face is posted all throughout the article, though fortunately, he has yet to be properly identified. Dimitri stops on the last image. It is a picture of Khalid and him reaching towards one another. The camera that originally was between them is edited out to make the image more like a recreation of a famous painting. It is dramatic, and it tells a fictitious story of young lovers torn apart.
Dimitri continues to read, “as of right now the man’s identity is currently unknown, but there are speculations on who he might be.” This is so jarring to read. Dimitri can’t commit to reading all of it so he scrolls to the very end. It appears that this site populates the number of people who read this article and it is already in the thousands. The comments are not as much but they’re plentiful. Most have unfavorable things to say about him, making a joke of him and going as far as to comment ‘mid’ on his appearance, whatever that means.
In the related articles, it has all been more or less the same narrative. While some published pieces were doubtful about their relationship, others confirmed it without a shred of proof. And the commenters, they were tearing Dimitri apart for taking their precious Khalid away from them (as if any of them, Dimitri included, ever had a chance with the famous model).
Khalid being a model does not surprise Dimitri, he actually suspected it, he just never imagined Khalid being so esteemed as to cause this heap of trouble for Dimitri.
Dimitri droops his head, letting the phone he’s holding press against his forehead in thought. He needs to find a way to stop this… but how…
He perks up once he has an idea. “I’m going to sue for libel.” He says, certain it’ll work until his sister starts ridiculing him.
She takes her phone back, crossing her arms as she starts to take up more space on her brother’s messy bed. “Only you make the rumor of dating an international supermodel into a death sentence.”
“That’s because it is.” Is his honest answer. Dimitri falls back fully into the mattress, his pout contagious. “I can never show my face again...” He sounds and looks dejected, adding to his overly dramatic reaction.
Just on cue his cell phone starts vibrating, multiple notifications going on at once. Dimitri collects his phone from his nightstand to find the various alerts coming from his friends. He’s in a group chat with his childhood friends: Ingrid, Sylvain and Felix, and they’re blowing up his phone in regards to the recent rumor. They’re sending links, screenshots, and photos that the paparazzi took.
Dimitri takes particular interest in the link Sylvain provides to Khalid’s instagram account, following that are various messages that drain him mentally and physically. Even if his friends are overall incredulous towards the rumor, they are not above giving their critique of the situation.
Okay, that’s enough reading for Dimitri. Since he finds himself incapable of contributing to the conversation, he contemplates going to Khalid’s profile instead.
“I have to clear the air.” Dimitri addresses Edelgard in a low tone, clicking on the link that Sylvain provided. “I can’t let people continue to believe we’re in a relationship.” Khalid’s page loads. Dimitri checks for any recent posts and there are none. Khalid is silent, which Dimitri finds rather odd. It will be in his best interest to clear up any misconceptions. Khalid is a public figure, this rumor affects him the most. He’s the one that has the most to lose, and because of that, Dimitri, in good conscience, cannot allow him to deal with the brunt of it.
Edelgard leans back, supporting herself on Dimitri’s headboard. She angles her head to get a better look at Dimitri’s screen and points out something for her brother to consider. “You do realize that the moment you make your identity public, the worse it’s going to get, right? They already know what you look like, and once you go public, they’ll know your name and they’ll look further into who you are. Then suddenly, your private life becomes public knowledge.”
His sister does have a point, but he can’t help but feel that she’s leaning towards the worst case scenario to deter him from doing what’s right. “You’re over exaggerating. People aren’t overly fond of the idea of me dating Khalid to begin with, they’d be elated to know the truth.” He counters.
Edelgard inhales and exhales excruciatingly slow, allowing her body to slide down the headboard until she lays flat beside her brother. “They’re jealous now but they’ll come to truly hate you if you break Khalid’s heart.” She tells him this but Dimitri doesn’t see the correlation. There’s not actually a spec of romance in this story.
When Edelgard notes Dimitri’s confusion, she says, “what I'm trying to say, brother, is that Khalid hasn't publicly declined the rumor. Perhaps there’s some semblance of truth hidden in it. After all, from what you told me, he did want you to have his number.” She adjusts herself on the bed, turning over to face Dimitri. “Now answer this, you think a model of his caliber will give their number out to just anyone? I think he’s interested in you.” She allows her words to permeate Dimitri’s thick skull before going further. “If you publicly denounce your relationship, he’ll take it as a rejection and you’ll break his pretty little heart.” She tries hard but she cannot hide the bit of sarcasm in that last part. “His fans will hate you, and soon enough they’ll be on our lawn with pitchforks.”
From the bottom of his heart, Dimitri is truly in awe of his sister’s ability to say the most ridiculous things with the straightest of faces. “You’re absurd.” He says. The whole theory is laughable at best.
With a roll of her eyes her hands come together underneath her cheek for support. “And you underestimate a fan’s obsession.” She frowns, the dipped lines of her mouth reflecting concern. She reaches for his phone and without hurry, drags it out of his hold. She turns his phone off, it’ll only be a distraction for the things she has to say.
“I get it, you feel like all eyes are on you and everyone hates you for something you haven’t even done. And even if you two were together, there’s nothing wrong with that either, but it’s going to place a target on your back regardless. People are willing to go to extremes and I just want to protect you from that.” She tells him earnestly as she tucks a piece of his hair behind his ear. Even if their daily conversations don’t reach this deep a level, it’s still nice to know that she cares for him. “Just ignore it. If you don’t feed into it people will forget and it’ll blow over in a few days when a bigger scandal comes along.” It’s what tends to happen with these sorts of cases anyways.
She proceeds. “On the upside, now that you have his profile, you can message him privately to return your camera.”
Although getting his camera back is not something Dimitri is against, that will require the two men meeting again. What if they get caught a second time and everything gets blown even more out of proportion? Dimitri starts rubbing the frustration out of his eyes, “I don’t know El, I’m probably the last person he wants to see as of right now.”
Edelgard raises herself on her elbow, curiosity piqued at a word her brother said. “See?” She repeats in question. Dimitri nods unsurely of what she is getting at. “I was thinking of having the camera delivered in the mail. Do you prefer to do the exchange in person?”
When Dimitri doesn’t answer she prompts another question. “Do you want to see him again, Dimitri?” Still, Dimitri doesn’t answer. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up at the accuracy of her accusation and as a response, he turns to hide his face. He is far from subtle and any fault caught in his expression could give away his embarrassment.
Edelgard knows Dimitri well enough to the point that even if his words do not express honesty, his body does. The way he gets so easily overtaken is an indicator that there may be something developing between the photographer and model.
Knowing that she will get nothing more out of her brother she conjures a plan. Edelgard sits up, her hands set on the mattress like she will be departing his bed, the intention is set but her actions don’t follow through. There’s something that she needs to lay the groundwork for.
“Have you heard of the Valentine’s Day fair? It’s in a couple of days and I want us to go. They have a ferris wheel I want to ride.” The sudden change of topic is unaccounted for, but it is not unlike Edelgard to derail a conversation.
Dimitri turns his head. His eyes meet with Edelgard’s back as he tries to figure out where this sudden interest comes from. She never mentioned the fair until now. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He warily replies. “I don’t wish to draw any unwarranted attention to you. I think it’s best that I stay home and keep a low profile. You can attend if you wish, I won’t stop you.”
And not a moment sooner, Edelgard raises her hand only to lower it over Dimitri’s hip bone. The sound is audible but the strike is not painful, his covers absorbed the hit from his rascal of a sister.
She raises her hand again, making it seem like she’ll hit him again, which rushes him to answer before her hit connects. “Fine, I'll go, I’ll go! Just stop hitting me.” And just like that, Edelgard stops shy from the side of his hip.
“Things will have settled down by then..” She tells him as her hand eases slowly on the covers, patting it soothingly.
Dimitri groans at her presence, “I hope you get what you bargain for” He convinces himself to attend on the prospect of fun. As far as he can remember, the siblings never had a significant other for the valentines season, and since valentine’s day is a day to celebrate love, they can celebrate the love they share towards one another as family.
He might as well go, he shouldn’t allow a rumor to dictate his life.
“I will.” Edelgard murmurs alongside a smile, if only Dimitri knew the real reason behind the gesture.
“You’ll see.”