above all (m×m) ✔

16) elapsed time

Time passes one second per second. Yet, it can fly when you're having fun and slow down when you're waiting. It wrinkles and it grays, but it also heals. One can be an old soul in their twenties, while the other remains young till the end of their days. So, really, what is time if not an illusion, a manmade construct?

The following week Steven had to cover James, who was down with the flu, at the barber shop on top of his work at the modeling agency. Ever since that shoot for the teen clothing store, he was getting increasingly more job offers. While managing the shoots, dealing with the emails plus other behind the stage necessities, as well as his shifts at the barber shop, he barely had time to eat or sleep.

Despite all the hustle, Steven's time didn't fly by. It couldn't slip through his fingers, not when he was waiting for the next opportunity to see Brandon. Not when he was counting on the hours to pass, just so that they could talk on the phone again. Time couldn't exactly slow down either, not when he was so busy, so he lived in this strange limbo where he simultaneously had too much time to kill and nowhere near enough of it. 

Brandon and Steven's calls were mostly about their days, and Steven always tried to come up with more funny stories to tell during the day. Brandon, in turn, told Steven about his days at the bakery or if he had seen Shirley or Ash. So, nothing out of the ordinary, just friends and work.

"Dempsey, quit daydreaming." The photographer, Rio Hayes, snapped at Steven. Hayes was the photographer, who had gotten a liking to him in the shoot for 4teen and who had recommended him for Vanity Fair. 

"Sorry, sorry." Steven apologized with a meek grin. Indeed, his thoughts had been wandering and he gave his head a little shake to clear it. Then he tilted his head to the side, lifting his chin just a tiny bit, to try and give his most flattering angle to the camera.

"That's more like it." Hayes agreed, smiling. He wasn't nearly as strict or hard to please as he had seemed on their first day working together. He still liked to bark his orders, but he wasn't telling anyone off the stage if he didn't immediately get his perfect shot.

They took a few more shots with the same outfits. Steven was wearing a grossly expensive suit, which was modified to fit his body type with pins. The needles had stung his back more than once, so he couldn't wait to get the suit off of him. He posed with Ivy, a girl who rarely said a word to anyone backstage, but there was no denying she knew what she was doing on stage.

"I think that's enough for the day. Good job, guys." Hayes dismissed them, his eyes still studying the pictures from the computer screen. "Don't forget the Westwood Foundation charity event on Friday. There will be designers and photographers all around the world, and you do not want to miss it. And hey, it's a plus-one, so bring a date."

Steven listened to the other models chatting about the event, for once remaining as silent as Ivy did. He was shot, about ready to crumble face first in his bed, and late from work. Steven bid his goodbyes and strode to his car, inhaling a cigarette in one go.

It was barely a ten minute ride to the barber, so he had to wolf down a melt Snickers and a protein bar. One, in other words Steven, could even say it was a balanced meal. Just for a good measure, Steven chucked down a can of warm Red Bull. He wasn't sure why he bothered, as it tasted absolutely disgusting after being left in a hot car, and caffeine made him sleepy.

"Helloooo, my dear friend." Steven marched in from the glass door, spreading his arms in a 'ta-da' gesture. JC saluted him, chuckling at his ostentatious demeanor. Then Steven spotted his customer sitting in one of the chairs by the register, and told him next: "And hello to you too, sorry I'm late. You should have seen how fast I speeded here, in fact, I will probably soon have a traffic ticket to show exactly how fast that was.."