02

Looking towards the models who were being photographed, you could tell how much hard work was put into everything.

The lady with pale white skin, deep chocolate, brown eyes, her hair just above her shoulders representing a much darker blonde. She was embracing her flaws encouraging others to not think that everyone is perfect, this was part of the idea as a whole, 'nobody is perfect.' As well as the male model who was holding her ever so perfectly from behind, his dark skin and icy blue eyes, with freckles on all the right places, his hair out in his bouncy, natural curls ending just below his jawline that looked sharp enough to use as a knife. A slice so unnatural, sight so mesmerising, as though it would be hitting perfection.

The look in their eyes as though they really were a married couple, I've been modelling for a really long time and whenever I'm here for photo shoots similar to this particular shoot, even I'm confused to whether they are just models or truly a married couple.

Everything nowadays was fake but what we missed was whether it was classed as fake or hidden behind the truth, many eyes would look at this scene, overwhelmed with the love they held in each other's eyes, contemplating whether it was true love or just the photographer's camera trick. I guess even models can't fake a true love like that, eyes twinkling with mischief, filled with swarms of love and many more emotions the other unravels of the other.

They are a couple, the eyes, the smiles that reach their eyes, the wrinkles between their cheeks and eyes on show. If they weren't a couple, they wouldn't have glowered in their flaws, their eyes peering at their souls, intertwining of the love we cannot imagine belonged solely to themselves. The happiness etched onto their faces, to uphold one another, to encourage the other to be pleased, contempt with what they have, to use their flaws as their makeup.

"Selene, you're next."

A nod of my own at acknowledging what they had told me, led to a hurried gesture and a quick walk in entrance to the dresser room. Many coloured outfits, bright and dark alike scattered around the room before I was given a baby blue ruched dress to wear for the shoot.

After my hair and outfit were properly fixed, I walk into the two models from earlier, one I knew like the back of my hand, the other not so much, a soul like his, always cheery, playful and always selfless, Niall Holmes.

"You both were amazing during that shoot, it was dreamy."

A smile and thanks played on Niall's face as he says he would be looking forward to mine, the feeling of nervousness once again infiltrating my senses. A model like him, he is a very talented critique as well as model, so to look anywhere near 'perfect' would take a lot of practice, but I will stand tall.

A sudden cough interrupted my thoughts, the deep chocolate brown eyes filled with pure anger, jealousy and resentment, eyebrows furred and her almond eyes peering at me in an almost judgemental state,

"He's my man, which means he's mine. Stay the hell away from him, bitch."

The spiteful tone in which she had told me, Niall's face filled with sympathy, eyes filled with tormenting emotions of love, hate, anger and many more. Glancing back towards the so called, "Rhea Wyatt," a saying replying in my mind, a pretty face doesn't mean a pretty heart.

"Excuse my language, but stop with your bitch fits, you clearly are aware that we're best friends and I sure as hell am not leaving him. Takes one to know one, bitch, now excuse me."

Taking the photo shoots with another model, a familiar male with golden tan skin, grey eyes peering at me, with his lips up in a smirk and wavy hair styled messily. A smile of my own making it's way onto my face as I didn't realise I was doing this with Donatello Mecci.

Peering at him, I see the twisted storms in his grey orbs, filled with emotions hidden to the person who dared look twice but I guess he always had a soft spot for myself, he truly was an admiration. My true inspiration, a true beauty like himself. As the shoot ended, we hadn't realised as I was still mesmerised with him, just by looking into his eyes, you can see so much but also feel lost in them.

As I feel someone glaring behind me, I turn to see the photographer, glaring at the man who's eyes I was once deep into, before the pair of eyes fell onto mine, a new emotion almost roaring in them, of fear.

**