Author's Note: I merged 3 chapters into one. I couldn't remove some space between lines, so... sorry.
*
With the rhythmic beats that spread through the air, the model moved. William was like a walking narrative. Even though his theme hadn't been displayed on the TV on the wall beforehand, I could guess what it was.
"Light in the Darkness."
It was a simple theme, but with an obscure depth; not easy to enact. But as difficult as it seemed, William handled it masterfully. With confident steps that seemed to illuminate a place that was already bright, the man drew all attention to himself, his talent obvious from the very beginning.
The music was merely an accessory to his performance, something disposable that only served to dictate the rhythm.
I could only stare as he moved, watching my chances of getting the job go down the drain.
***
Models came and went as time passed. Before I knew it, only Luke and I were left to walk. My only wish was for someone to get me out of there.
It was obvious I wouldn't make it. Tension squeezed my heart; anxiety gripped my mind.
"Luke Cross."
When his name was called, the seemingly experienced model stood up, his jaw clenched. Perhaps he also thought his chances were slim.
He walked as if he owned the place, the only one worthy of being there. When he finally reached the starting point, the paper in his hand had already disappeared without my witnessing its disposal.
A loud sound echoed, signaling the start of the music, and also of his test. The brand's evaluators sat motionless, their expressions neutral. They were trained for this.
With his shoulders perfectly aligned with his legs and his neck slightly accentuated upward, Luke began to move.
His theme, "Relic." It was a common theme among luxury brands at the moment. It tested deeply not only the garment being presented but also the model.
The ability to remain rare, untouchable, yet visible for the world to witness.
Luke perfectly embodied that emotion, that feeling.
Rarity—
Luxury—
Visibility.
He wasted not a single step, his gaze focused on an objective visible to none of us but him.
He shone, a bright light that blinded;
But the abyss within him cried out for attention. A star on the verge of explosion.
The threat of a new supernova, someone who had reached their 'raw' state. Their individuality that possessed no end, no limit.
I was already looking down when my name was called. Luke had finally finished his magnificent performance. Now, I needed to show the world what I had learned in every single day of my life since I decided I would be a model.The weight of the experience I had acquired.
I didn't have the same confidence or experience as the others as I walked to the start of the runway, only the anxiety that grew exponentially with every second I remained in that place. The tension was no longer just mental at that moment; it was almost physical, tangible.
I still hadn't reached my individuality. At that moment, I was just like every other amateur, dreamer model. But... I didn't want it to be that way. I wanted to stand out. Be different, draw attention.
Did all my experiences not pull me out from among the equals, but instead throw me even deeper into the pit of the commonplace?
A growing internal frustration erupted inside me.
Why was it so easy for others and not for me?
Why did I have to be the unlucky one born without the talent necessary to follow my dreams? Would I be able to climb this enormous mountain that separated the professionals from the amateurs?
No...
No.
No!
I didn't want to be on that side. The side of the uncertain, brittle future. I didn't deserve to be there; I deserved more.
In that instant when I stood still in my position, moments before the music began, I felt a new emotion arise within me.
Greed.
In that emotion, I had an epiphany. I wanted to be seen, labeled. I wanted the world to recognize how hard I had worked, how many parts of me were stolen by my dreams, and how many parts of me I had given voluntarily for my dream.
I didn't have to be on either side. Wealth or failure. The future or eternal imprisonment in time that would not move. Fulfillment or self-deception.
No...
I had to be the wall, the enormous mountain.
The chasm that separated the amateurs from the professionals. A new category created specifically for me. The mountain that everyone could see, impassive.
Having talent or not;
Having personality or not;
All of that was trivial when placed on a mannequin.
A mannequin was nothing, but it was also everything that others wished it to be. Meanings floated around it but did not attach. Ever-changing, ever-customizable.
And so, I sank even deeper into the abyss that existed inside me.
The abyss that consumed me more and more with each passing second.
***
Nothing changed for a few moments, but shortly after the music began, Sabine and Mitchel were startled by the visible change in Noah.
His eyes became more focused and his hands stopped shaking. When his posture was perfectly repositioned, Mitchel murmured:
"What the...?"
They had silently observed all the models who would undergo the evaluation even before the tests began. Among all of them, Noah was the one who had drawn the least attention.
He just seemed like a young man who had gotten too emotional. Nothing new. Things like this happened occasionally. Agencies didn't always have the best scouts.
But this...
Noah exuded something disconcerting. He was like a walking noun. No longer a living being. He was more like a mannequin.
Yes, the perfect mannequin.
When the music started, it marked the beginning of his movement. He was off-beat, but the evaluators couldn't force themselves to care. Noah's way of walking the runway had nothing special about it, but that very fact transformed him into something different. There was no personality in it, just... emptiness.
His eyes began to lose focus; it was as if he was losing more and more of his sense of self as he walked.
When Mitchel observed Noah's movements further, he noticed an internal struggle. The emptiness and his personality fought each other, which created a strange beauty within his performance.
They didn't notice when it ended, nor could they remember what the theme had been, and the memory only surfaced when they looked at the TV.
The theme, "Abyss," displayed silently on the screen.
Sabine, with a sigh, looked at Mitchel, who stared back at her in a similar manner. Impassive, of course, but both managed to notice familiar emotions in each other's eyes. Emotions they had learned to observe.
If Noah hadn't drawn attention before, he was now squarely in the spotlight.