The Red Carpet // MODEL AU

『 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 』

He leans back against the seat's booth, pouting as he points an accusing finger at him.

"Hey, what's the hold up?!" He snaps, "Just order me my KFC already!"

The young boy in his tux and shades rolls his eyes.
"Sir, keep it down! You don't want to grab attention.. Besides, it's not as easy as it looks—"

He nods to the massive line, cueing at the front of the KFC counter. The blonde hair boy scoffs, folding his petite arms before laying his legs on top of the table.

"Yes it is as easy as it looks. I did not hire you as my assistant for you to not be able to get me my KFC!" He remarks, "Don't you know who you're talking to?!"

"S-Sir—"

"No, shut up. I've had enough, I'll just have to do this myself then!"

He gets up from his seat, walking over to the middle of the fast-food joint's area. He had taken the booth at the far corner of the restaurant, purposely to avoid himself from all the other people here— There must be at least 50, if not more. It was an awfully busy morning, but that was expected on a Saturday.

As the boy strides across the room, everybody at the tables go silent, the chattering in the atmosphere completely faded to just mere whispers.

"Oh my god.. is that..?"
"No way.."
"Is that really him?"
"Are we seeing who I think we're seeing?"
"I.. I can't believe it.."
"Holy.. Crap..."

Posture upright, his stance his confident and condescending he strides; the way his shoulders would move elegantly, becoming one with his beauty; and the way how his honey, blonde hair blows gently as if the Wind-Gods were caressing him lovingly. From his deluxe boots, to his well-curved waist, to his perfect jawline, and to his charming hair — Everything about him was beautiful.
No, that would be an understatement— Everything about the boy was perfect.

His eyes were the most defined part of his body — Ironic, as he suffers from an extremely rare condition known as heterochromia. It is when one eye lacks the amount of pigment in the iris contrasted to the other, often resulting in both eyes being of different colours.
In his case, one eye was a glimmering hazel brown, while the other was a captivating jade green.

He walks up to the front reception, beside the long cue as he slams his fist against the tiled counter.
"Hey, where's the KFC manager?" He retorts, head high as he looks down upon everybody in the restaurant.

The female receptionist glances at him, before immediately stuttering nervously, her face breaking into pools of sweat.
"O-Oh my God!!" She exclaims, her hand on her mouth, "Y-You're..—"

"Yeah, whatever, it's me, Ash Charles, I guess, " He shrugs, "Like, the famous guy everyone knows about. Yeah, that's me. So can you, like, get me your most expensive meal on the menu before I sue your company for making me wait for half an hour for my assistant to wait in your filthy line of your unhygienic, disgusting mortals?"

Ew, people are DISGUSTING!

The receptionist, who is left speechless, nods as she hurriedly scurries into the kitchen.
The people in cue glance at him for a second, before processing what's happening. Before he can continue, everybody immediately freaks out.

"Oh my god! Ash Charles! It's really you!!"
"I LOVE YOU ASH!"
"I have a pen! Please sign my arm!"
"I BOUGHT ALL YOUR MAGAZINES"
"I HAVE YOUR BODY PILLOW!"
"ASH CHARLES!! YOU ARE MY IDOL!!"

All at once, everybody crowds around him; yelling, fangirling, blinding him with flashing lights as they take photos — Practically anything a normal person would do if they saw a world-wide famous star standing in front of them.

While Ash obviously enjoyed all the attention, there were some times when all he wanted was a break. Like now, for instance.

"Blind Ivan!" He calls out, raising his arm, "Hel—"

In an instant, his assistant — Blind Ivan — comes running to the rescue. He pushes the surrounding crowd of people away, blocking everyone from touching him. As he stands in front of him, his arms are spread apart, stopping anyone from stepping closer.

"Get away from him," He growls, stare sinister and hard from beneath his shades, "Or else I'll call the COPS."

Everyone backs away, and the receptionist returns with a receipt.
"Y-Your order has just been scheduled—" She stutters, "I- I hope—"

"Good," Ash replies, grabbing a pen off a random person in line as he walks up to her. Quickly, he scribbles his signature on her receipt.

"Here, you can keep that. Now hurry up, I'm hungry."

And he walks back to his table, his body guard just behind his tail.

༄༄༄

"Who's he?" Asks a random tanned boy with red eyes sitting at a table near Ash. His friend's jaw drops.

"Are you serious? You don't know who he is!?" He exclaims in a low voice, making sure the celebrity doesn't hear. The tanned boy shakes his head.

"Well, for starters, Ash Charles is like.. The world's most famous supermodel!" His friend begins, turning around to sneak a glance at the Superstar, whose sitting impatiently at his table. "He's won several international modelling awards!"

"That's it?" The red eyed boy responds.

"What do you mean 'that's it"?! Of course not! Not only that, but he's entered in about fifty modelling competitions, and he won about 40 of them! He's the top-of-the-top league model, dude. In fact, he's won the world's #1 Best Model of the year award for 5 years in a row!!"

The boy looks over at Ash, before letting out a small hum.

"Woah.. So, what's a famous celebrity like him doing in some cheap fast-food store?!"