𝐋𝐚 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐞𝐮𝐫

𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

listen to the song above :)

"Driving on the road, waiting for a head-on collision"

☕︎︎

The models run around backstage half naked trying to prepare for the first runway show of the week. It starts in half an hour and everyone is panicking as they try to throw on their costumes and makeup in time. Lisa's hand fidgets with the wrinkled pages of the book in her lap as the makeup artist's soft brush flicks back and forth across her closed eye. The young woman applying her makeup gives her a small nudge on her should as a notion to get up and let the next model sit. 

Lisa smiles up at the makeup artist in gratitude as she stands, closing her book and brushing off the bottom of her pink and green floral dress. She only gets a second to look at her bold makeup in the mirror before she is whisked off by another member of the staff to the opposite side of the backstage. Here she stands impatiently as another young woman sets a black wide-brimmed hat on her head and proceeds to stab her scalp with black bobby pins to ensure the hat stays. 

Lisa winces a little every time the pins scrap against her scalp but says nothing for the staff are just as stressed as she is. The first show of Paris fashion week must go perfectly and the pressure is all on the model's and staff's shoulders. The sound of the chattering crowds on the other side of the curtain adds to the tension backstage, the noise reminding the models of the show they must put on. 

Once the staff member finishes torturing Lisa's scalp the woman hands Lisa a brush and hairspray with a smile. Lisa flashes a quick grin in return, secretly pissed at the woman for the misery she will be in for the next 20 minutes or so. Turning to a second mirror she takes a second to admire the purple eye shadow and tiny green gems lining her eyes and the bright blush painted across her cheeks before beginning to slick her baby hairs back. 

Usually, models don't need to do things like this because they are not professional hairstylists, but while organizing the show, the people in charge underestimated the number of stylists needed for the number of models.  

She finishes applying the hair spray to her now sticky forehead and sets the brush and spray down, admiring her work in the mirror. She hears the director of the show shout to the models, warning them that they have five minutes remaining. She, and many of the other models, take this as a cue to make their way over to form a line in front of the runway.  

She walks to stand next to Tzuyu in line, grinning nervously at her as grip each other's hands, silently comforting each other. She takes a deep breath and turns her head towards the front, spotting Mrs. Demeulemeester, one of the designers of the show making her way towards her. Lisa stands up straight, for she is wearing one of Mrs. Demeulemeester's pieces and wants it to look perfect.

The older woman stops in front of Lisa and smiles at her, pleased to see Lisa in the line of models waiting to walk the Paris fashion week runway.

"Bonne soirée mon chérie," she says, greeting Lisa with a pleasant smile. 

"Bonne soirée, Madame," Lisa smiles, bowing her head in greeting. Lisa has worked with Mrs. Demeulemeester multiple times, complimenting her collections so well that she has grown to become one of the talented designer's go-to models.

"I would hug you my dear, but I don't want to ruin the dress," she jokes, trying to loosen the talented model's mood. She reaches out at begins to adjust the bodice of the dress until she is satisfied, wanting her dress to look perfect on stage. Lisa laughs politely, feeling intimidated as she speaks to the influential woman. 

"I understand that your nervous mon chérie," she tells her, flashing her one last smile as she continues down the line, "bonne chance!" Lisa smiles at the kind woman's retreating back, glad that over the years she has made such influential friends and made it so far in the industry. 

The director takes her position at the front of the line and holding their hand up, flashing numbers with her fingers. 

three

two

one

zero

The lights on the floor begin to glow and the music starts, alerting the audience to the start of the show. The line of models move almost immediately, every second Lisa getting a little closer to the runway. Lisa rolls her shoulders back and holds her head up high, counting the number of models in front of her as it rapidly lessens. She reaches the front of the line in nearly two minutes, the models who were a the front already backstage again changing into their next outfits.

She takes a deep breath as Tzuyu lets go of Lisa's hand and begins to walk the runway, showing off her charming outfit, and features, perfectly. The director holds her hand up in front of Lisa and then lets it down in a quick gesture, motioning for Lisa to start walking.

Lisa begins to strut down the runway with an air of confidence that wasn't there a minute ago backstage. Each step she takes matches perfectly with the beat of the music, satisfying her greatly. She reaches the end of the catwalk and poses, lifting her arms up in a large motion and resting them above her head elegantly, showing off the sheer balletic sleeves. 

She turns around feeling satisfied with her quick performance and makes eye contact with the next model, a tall handsome young man with large brown eyes. As he walks past her, he gives a cheeky smile, as he was probably directed to do before he came out for it matched his child-like outfit, but Lisa knew the little wink that followed was directed towards her.

When he smiled, all Lisa could think was oh shit.