polaroid angel - dreamnotfound

˖⋆࿐໋₊ 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦

"and that's a wrap."

i feel a smile creeping up on my lips. work has for once been really fun, and that's all on dream.

a week with no contact passed after our first encounter. i almost thought i'd never meet him again. life went on as usual, but he still stuck to the back of my mind. carlos didn't tell me too much either, other than that he was glad the shoot had gone well.

but today, out of nowhere, i was informed the minute i came into the office that dream was back. and he wanted to see me again. for longer, this time. my heart jumped inside my chest. i've never ran to a studio room so fast.

it's kind of childish, if i should be honest. i'm already stupidly drawn to dream, despite barely knowing a single thing about the guy. sure, we've made small talk during the session today, but he's definitely not one to open up to people. i still don't know his real name. i don't know where he lives, i don't know any of his hobbies outside of photography, i don't know his favorite color, what he likes to eat..

he could be a psychopath, for all i know. yet i'm still interested. i tip-toe around him like a middle school girl, eyes widening and cheeks flushing at everything he says. it's honestly embarrassing. i hope he hasn't noticed.

i get off the pedestal, approaching him slowly as he types something on his laptop.
"do they look good?"
"they're absolutely amazing," he answers without hesitation, "i could show you the ones we did last week if you want."
"sure."

he pulls up a folder - simply named 'george' - from his library full of pictures. i crouch down to where he's sitting so i can see the screen better. it's a bit uncomfortable; the playboy bunny suits obviously weren't made for hunching like this. even though i can't wait to get out of this suffocating piece of clothing, i must admit i look pretty good. the bunny tail is adorable in some sexual kind of way. and this is only one of the many outfits i've posed in today; dream must've been feeling especially creative.

"here they are."
he shows me the photos in fullscreen.

"woah..."

for the first time ever, i'm baffled by my own appearence. normally i can always find flaws. they're in every single publication, and it bothers me. sometimes the shape of my face is weird, or my stomach isn't flat enough, or my thighs are too fat. but now? i look.. perfect. my porcelain skin is smoother than ever, and as white as milk. my features are soft and delicate. the contrasting dark brown hair ties it together so wonderfully. i look almost like an angel, without the wings.

he keeps scrolling through them, each one getting more and more breathtaking.

"d-did you photoshop these? you must have, right?"
"i fixed the lighting as always but no, i did not photoshop anything. this is all real," he explains, his expression mildening, "this is what you look like, george."

i'm grinning so much it hurts. that's really what i look like? tears are welling up, tears of pure happiness. god, i'm a wuss. but after all these years of insecurity, of self-hatred, of comparing myself to others, i finally get to feel pretty. i'm pretty. all the effort i've put in. i've gone on so many diets, quit so many bad habits, refrained from so many activities purely because i was scared of injuring myself and getting bruises or scars. it's finally paid off.

"oh honey, come here."

he opens his arms for me. i don't even acknowledge the fact that he just called me honey. without a second thought i dive right in. he embraces my thin body warmly, allowing me to cry into his shoulder. my makeup is probably leaving stains on his perfectly clean white shirt, but he doesn't seem to care.

dream. he made me feel beautiful again.

"th-thank you.." i sniffle, face still hidden.

he smells like sweet lavender and cologne. i feel safe in his grip. like he's protecting me.

"you're drop-dead gorgeous, okay? don't let anyone tell you otherwise. this is undoubtedly my best work so far, and it's all you. no props, no outfits, all you."

i lean back to look at his face, straightening my bunny ears in the process. he's smiling, just like me. his hands still rest loosely on my waist. i like having them there. i want him to keep them there.

my mouth opens to speak, but not a word comes out.
"i want them published, i really do. i couldn't let something so unique go to waste. you're a star, george."

silence sets in for multiple seconds. his eyes gaze back at me, at my tear-stained face, my wet cheeks. i wish i could know what he's thinking, but he's so hard to read. his words are all i have to trust.

"thank you, again..." i mumble, breaking the eye contact.
"no problem," he replies, chuckling lightly.

he laughed. i've never heard him laugh before. he's always been dead serious around me. the brick wall he's put up to seem professional is cracking. and i'm totally here for it.

i'm about to slip out of his grasp to avoid making things more awkward when he suddenly takes my hand instead. my fingers are ice cold compared to his. they look so small and fragile when he's holding them, like he could easily break them in half if he just tried.

"before you go.." he starts, pausing and clearing his throat nervously, "would you let me take you out for dinner sometime?"

my heart does a little flip. subtle, but not subtle enough to go unnoticed.
"of course," i blush, "when?"
"well, how about right now?"
"now? i mean- i'm free right now, yeah."
"perfect," he smirks, "get changed and we'll be on our way then."

i walk into the changing room in shock. did he just ask me out? like, on a date? no. it's not a date. he didn't say it was. we're only getting dinner. that's it. he probably wants to discuss work related things. yeah. that's it. calm down.