Noah, the model, was currently with his back against a background that resembled the starry sky in the north pole at night, while the suit that decorated his body was of a pale white color.

Light blue hexagon patterns gave the image some color, following a gradient from the bottom up. This was true for both the jacket and the pants, as their colors met and melded in the middle.

​​

The collection that Noah was modeling to advertise for had a theme of how the clothes changed the people and their image. Because of such a theme, they needed a single person to model for all four sets and this opportunity had been given to Noah.

Now the Friendly Spring, Hot Summer, and Distant Fall were all done, but they had been stuck at the Cold Winter due to Mason's vision of what this could be.

He couldn't be satisfied otherwise.

"What part do you not understand?" Mason asked in a frustrated manner.

"Cold but conflicted, quite simple no?"

Mason was pacing around. He had this image in his mind and he couldn't think about anything other than that one picture.

No.

He simply wouldn't. He was too scared that if he were not thinking about it for even a second, he might lose it.

Forget it and lose it to the realms of the unknown, the memories that would never be retrieved again.

A common occurrence.

It's similar to when you have a shower thought, something amazing, or so you think because by the time you go get your phone to record the idea, you've already forgotten it.

By then, even if you sit there for another hour, you won't be able to steal it back from the tight grasp of forgetfulness and the curse of short-term memory loss, sometimes even long-term memory loss.

And so, the thoughts going through Mason's mind currently went something like this:

[Yes, it has to be cold, after all, that's the theme for this set.]

[But I can't just have it be cold, there's no dimension to it whatsoever, how lame!]

[Not to mention, who the hell would want to buy something as unapproachable as cold? They would probably believe that only a certain type is fit to wear such a thing. Opposing the whole goal.]

Mason still took into account who he was partnering up with, a fashion line. It was only right for him to take note of what they would want.

[Not to mention I have to give this Noah kid a hard time so that he'll finally fold.]

Mason had a cold smirk hidden behind his scrunched-up face. He was determined to squeeze that kid for every penny of his worth.

[Yes, the conflicted imperfection of a flustered man, paired with the cold exterior shield, used to protect rather than attack.]

['Noah' doesn't want to harm everyone that comes near, but rather protect himself from those who will melt his wall, not knowing what will come afterward.]

[Conflicted by the unknown and shielded by the ice, not knowing that that frail ice is what will melt the quickest.]

[A bashful frost.]

[That is my theme.]

The more Mason thought about it, the more he obsessed over it, feeling like he simply had to accomplish this today, knowing that the first samples would have to be sent the very next morning.

Emilin, who watched from the sidelines, couldn't help but muse a little.

She had never photographed anything other than scenery, but she knew that she wanted to learn. In the future, she wanted to be able to take beautiful pictures of the people around her and herself with them.

Mason kept on going and going, while Noah simply quietly listened.

One might even think that he was either mute or simply had no temper, but that was not the case at all.

It was at that moment, the moment when he finally snapped.

"Ah, old man, I'm so done with this. What is this bs about cold and this and that! I've been following your whims all day, you did this on purpose, right? Even if you want to win that stupid bet you don't have to go so far as to severe relationships like this, right?"

Noah's image completely changed at that moment, from an obedient model who listened to the photographer to a fed-up kid with a temper. No, it would be more accurate to say that he returned to his original form.

"What is this huh? I found it suspicious right away when a shooting day with you came up on my schedule like this out of nowhere. Did you offer them to do it? It can't be a coincidence. I don't buy it. You're really pushing your luck this time. I might really go right out and quit."

While Noah fumed about the unfair terms, every single person in the entirety of the studio, with the exceptions of Lisa, Mason, and Emilin, let out a short sigh.

It seemed like they had been waiting for this moment all day, having been tensed up beforehand.

They all knew the terms of the bet.

"You heard the boy! Dinner is on him tonight, get ready to eat a big feast. We're going for seafood at Carlson's," Mason said, in a relatively loud voice. He didn't scream, and he didn't have to either to have everyone hear.

"But Sir, you have to reserve a spot at least a week prior. There shouldn't be any tables for a group as large as ours," one of the workers on the sidelines commented.

"I already reserved the tables the day we made the bet," Mason calmly responded to the expected question as Noah's veins bulged.

Noah didn't mind spending the money, he could afford it, but at that point, he'd have to be a moron not to know that he had been played.

As for Mason, he wasn't provoking Noah for no reason, Mason had the tendency to push towards the mood that he wanted for the photo he wanted without telling anyone, it was second nature to him.

In the end, he didn't care whether he annoyed the other party to death or offended someone, as long as he got the job done, he would let his results make up for the rest.

That was exactly what had happened with Owen.

Mason did not lack people who disliked him, in fact, even the people who liked him didn't like him.

Mason was gifted in that department.

It was a skill, he would say.

Yes, indeed, skilled. Very, very skilled.

Anyways, the people who had been working overtime were glad to have an affirmative that they would get off work before dinner time and so they were happy too.

Mason saw how Noah was fuming while doing his best not to burst once again and instinctively knew that it was time to placate the boy.

"Now, now. We'll have to get back to the mood. Try cold now," Mason ordered.

Noah's brows couldn't unfurrow no matter how hard he tried, and his lips tightened a little as he tried to get his facial muscles to move back to how they were previously, or at least something similar.

Mason's camera clicked, but his face still showed his dissatisfaction as he looked at the final product.

Lisa shook her head, having let their guest, Emilin, witness such an unsightly scene with this whole bet and outburst thing. But now that it had already occurred, there was nothing left to do about it.

Lisa turned her head to look at the young lady standing next to her.

Emilin was staring intently at Noah.

'I guess it's to be expected, after all, Noah is quite the looker and the young lady should be around the same age,' Lisa thought.

But then, something completely unexpected occurred.

Emilin, who had been standing quietly throughout the shoot suddenly started moving over.

Her eyes were slightly murkier than usual as if she were recalling something. She wasn't even thinking all that properly as she took steps towards the young model.

Her shoes clacked and echoed throughout the studio.

Emilin felt like she had heard something in the background, perhaps someone talking, but she couldn't concentrate enough to hear what was said.

*Grab*

Out of nowhere.

Emilin had already made her way right in front of Noah and grabbed his face lightly. Rubbing a little and pinching his cheek as if musing his looks, but that was not truly the case.

'He looks like me,' Emilin thought.

It wasn't about his physical appearance, but rather that look. The one that he had on his face just seconds ago.

It reminded her of herself.

All those times back in high school when she would stare into the mirror all day long, trying her best to look natural. Back then she had thought that employing the poker face would be good enough for her, but every time she thought about how everyone else could easily talk to others of their age and make friends, her face couldn't help but scrunch up.

She also wanted to make friends.

It was an expression she had stared at for hours on end, truly unsightly. She didn't like it, yet she was also eerily familiar with the look.

And now, she had found that look in Noah.

Perhaps Emilin was trying to squeeze it out of him, or maybe just trying to make sure it was real, but she simply couldn't help but pinch Noah's face at that moment.

***

Theodore: WTF get away from my sister right this instant!

Noah: Wh-what… Sh-she was the one that came onto me! ( ˵ ° - ° ˵ )

Theodore: Like hell she would! Who do you think you are eh? Who are you to defame my sister like this?

Nathen: Now, now, Theo. I'm sure we can all talk this out like men. (ò_ó)

Noah: … You mean with words, right?

Nathen: Sure. Words, I love words. What else could we possibly use other than words?

Noah: I think you used the word words one too many times…

Nathen: Did I now?