Midnights In Paris | Jenlisa

A Little Death Around The Eyes

By the time she arrived at Vogue, the coke had kicked in. And boy, was it a nice kick.

She strutted inside the building, high-fiving the young doorman as he opened the door for her. She felt euphoric as she noticed how the black boots at her feet didn't hurt anymore. She could run a marathon in them if she felt like it.

That morning, she did.

She eyed the elevator but decided on taking the stairs, instead. She flew floor after floor of stairs, not noticing the way her name was being called, repeatedly. It was the same way parents called for their children: like they're used to it.

And Lisa wished she was, too. But it had been a while since she had taken anything. She had been good, so good, at keeping it nice and (mostly) clean after the relapse she had. Right after Jennie left.

She didn't know where she was going or where she was needed, for all that mattered. Deciding on playing it by heart, she ended up at the basement where she had the Celine shooting a few days before.

The automatic doors opened for her, and Lisa smiled an awfully bright grin as she made her triumph entrance. To her displeasure, everyone was too preoccupied with their own mundane things to bother about another coked up model entering the scene.

Everybody, but one.

Their eyes met, but Lisa was quick to advert her gaze. She hadn't expected to meet Jennie. Not because she was too high to remember, but because she had thought that she was still at her apartment given how she had seen Chaeyoung leaving it barely fifteen minutes prior. Did that mean that she had left before her? Just like she had done with her?

Her eyes intersected a figure, coming towards her. Before she could think about it, she escaped to a dressing room, closing the door behind her loudly. She sighed, with her head leaned towards the closed door behind her and her eyes shut, failing to notice the team of stylists whose work was brusquely interrupted.

She then smiled, silently prompting them to continue their work.

Eyeing a couch on the other side of the room, she was quick to take a seat, crossing her legs as she did so. She tried to take a deep breath, in a failed attempt to calm the loud heartbeat in her chest and the restlessness of her mind.

Her hands fidgeted with the zipper of the worn out hoodie she had thrown over her head that morning.

She couldn't tell how much time had gone by when she finally got called. Seconds felt like hours or hours like seconds. That, too, was confusing to her.

Before she could realize, though, she was being seated at make up. The same people who had gotten her ready just a few days before were busying themselves with her face, trying to salvage the mess that she knew she looked like.

They spoke french, quickly and unapologetic, not bothering to explain anything to her as they laughed and sneered.

"What are you talking about?" She asked, bluntly. She had always been a very direct person, and the fact that she wasn't in a situation where her inhibitions could stop her, surely didn't help.

A short, thin guy with overly oxygenated hair looked her up and down before throwing a last glance at his co worker who simply giggled. Lisa couldn't decide on who got more on her nerves.

"Nothing, darling" he spoke, in english this time "we were just talking about how Jean is gonna love today's shoot"

Lowering his face until it was next to Lisa's, he made her look directly at the mirror using one of his brushes to guide her face gently, as he spoke again with an accent as heavy as the words he was about to utter