SHIMOKITAZAWA NIGHTS / @hyunhd
— TOKYO, YEARS BACK. selene takes the job 'cause it pays and asks sod all of her. editorial cover, japanese mag, in and out. easy. she's younger then, meaner too, honestly. hair slicked back tight, eyes already bored, but the studio hums around her, calm, efficient. she likes that. no gawking. no one trying it on. she's seen enough desperate hands and overexcited smiles to last a lifetime. then she sees him. not centre-stage. off to the side... quiet. like a bloody shark in loafers. and she likes it. likes that he doesn't look like he's there to impress anyone. is he the designer? stylist fusses with her hem. she doesn't care. she watches him instead, mental tick marks for later. eyes, posture, ease, all of it.
shoot wraps. hair down, she tucks the last stray hairs behind her ears and drifts over, unhurried. she likes to move like she's got money to burn and makes everyone else feel like they don't. "selene." she inserts. nothing extra. no surname, no smile, no invitation for small talk. "mm," she murmurs, lips tilting, eyes sizing him up like she’s checking if he's edible or dangerous. "a couple of us are heading out to a spot in shimokitazawa." she rolls her eyes, glancing at the models clustered near the lights behind her. "they wanted to know if you wanted your spot RSVP…" leave it to her to do the job of twenty-something year olds. "so?"