Just a Fairytale [Kuroko Tetsuya x Reader x Nijimura Shuzo]{KnB}

[C.22] College: Diary Entry Twenty-Two

An enormous red bow is placed on the top of your head while the last of the makeup is smeared on your face. Although you stare at the mirror before you, you do not look at yourself. Your eyes are glazed and lifeless.

"She has such a grungy depressed look," a spokeswoman says with glee. "She's absolutely perfect for this album cover!"

You do well to hide your distaste for the situation. Even though you accepted the job to model for the rock band's album cover, you feel no desire to be in such a photo shoot. Akari even tried to talk you out of it when all she does is talk you IN to things.

But you didn't listen to the one friend who has been at your side through your turmoil.

It has been exactly a week since your break up with Nijimura. You hadn't returned to your managerial duties, and you've been slacking in school. Akari has tried to cover for you in your absence, but you're sure you'll be hearing from the school soon enough.

You can't smile or find joy in anything you do, and you thought that by modeling for Akari's favorite band, you'd discover a tiny ounce of happiness in doing something for your friend. But you sit there with regret, not wanting to experience life so soon.

Smokey eyeshadow and black lips are painted on you, and your face is chiseled with heavy makeup. Your dead eyes seal the look as those around you find a harrowing tinge to them. Enough so to make them content to have you at their photo shoot.

Had this been a perkier setting, you'd be kicked.

You spot the guitarist of the band eyeing you, causing your lips to form a frown. It is now that you wish you fought for a more conservative outfit. Not this grey satin dress that hardly covers your chest in it's plunging neckline. The thin spaghetti straps do little to hold up the dress, allowing a charitable view of your breasts. The skirt portion of the dress is in a tulle style that goes past your knees but it's ripped to shreds and gives some view to your thighs.

"You're up, [L.Name]!"

You walk over and greet the photographer. As always you are mindful in your rapport with them. Then you settle into the stool in front of a bare black backdrop. The lights are dimmed yet there is a bright lamp near the camera.

"Can you play with the shadows?" the photographer instructs you. You nod your head and begin making a different poses and tilts of your head. With each click, the photographer stares at the camera before beginning again. "Less camera contact."

You adhere to his request and pull your gaze away, finding ways to light your face with the lamp while not looking at the camera. You take a few before they begin giving your props to play with. A guitar, an apple, a book. None gave you inspiration as you found them unimaginative. 

"I don't like it," the guitarist says from afar. You heart hammers harder at the rejection. "She isn't feeling anything. That's why I told you she needs to read the lyrics and model her interpretation!"

The photographer sighs at the suggestion. "Models don't need that."

"Yeah, but we are requesting that she reads it!" the guitarist presses.

You furrow your eyebrows as you stand from the stool. Confusion bites at your actions, but you persevere. You show little care in upsetting others, let alone your social standing with celebrities. Not when you have so much on your mind.

"If it means that much to you, I can read your songs."

The other band members shrug, and you guess that the man making a scene to be the leader. You try to recall his name, but you weren't paying attention to introductions.