One World Closer (Belarus x Photographer!Reader)

You like to think of yourself as a person who has an above average appreciation for exquisite things. It's part of your job description, after all.

Then she showed up, and all your previous ideals were flipped upside down in the most peculiar way.

Your mouth almost fell open when you first saw Natalya Arlovskya in person.

A frown decorates her face, but even that wasn't enough to detract from her unique beauty. You can see why you've been seeing her all over the place recently, whether on TV advertising one thing or another or on the magazines covers. She has this peculiar, doll-like figure that's all the rage at the moment. But magazines and television screens don't do her justice. Blonde hair falls down her back like a waterfall, and her bangs fall just short of piercing eyes that dance between violet and blue, like the sky as it crosses the threshold between night and day. She hasn't even been made up yet- she stands there in a black gown, allowing stylists to flutter around her like birds, spraying, brushing, straightening, and that's just for her hair alone. Natalya doesn't appear to notice- she gazes at her reflection with clinical detachment, as though she doesn't know what it is or how it came to be there. Soon enough, however, she is swept away for her shoot, and you are left thinking of her face all the way through your own shoot- the models pale in comparison, but you dutifully click away with your camera, several of the models blinking in the flashes, like startled woodland creatures. But your heart is not in it, instead it's beating rapidly and your head is busy trying to puzzle out why.

~

Days pass after that fateful first meeting, and Natalya is a part of a large ensemble spread, showing off some new designer gowns straight off the catwalk. Not only are they gorgeous, but they are everywhere. You couldn't get away from her if you tried. She looks sullen, withdrawn, but she's pretty enough that it comes off as mysterious more than anything. You ponder on why Natalya has such an effect on you- in your profession; you're surrounded by beautiful people, male and female alike, on such a constant basis that you almost don't notice it anymore. In a way, it's for the best- looks can only tell you so much about a person. You find yourself flipping through the article, wondering if there's an interview in there somewhere, but it yields no results. Your eyes flick back at the single picture with Natalya alone, her expression set into a near-scowl, as if silently rebuking you for prying. (Or trying to, at least.) Sighing, you put the magazine back, your curiosity piqued but nowhere near sated. You want to know more.

~

Normally, you don't like being called in for extra shifts at work, especially not at such short notice, but you're low on cash so you can't really say no. When you do get to your building, your mood is already pretty low as you shake rain off your coat and nod a hello to the portly security guard. You head up the stairs towards the main studio, sighing. When you push open the door, however, your breath halts in your throat.

Natalya brushes her hair off her shoulder, her eyes meeting your across the room.

"Are you the replacement?" she asks you, in a surprisingly high voice, her accent giving you that peculiar fluttering feeling.

"Ah- yes." you say, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks. "It's nice to finally meet you in person, Ms. Arlovskya."

You feel like you've been dunked headfirst in a tub of boiling water.

Natalya merely nods elegantly, and departs to get the final finishing touches on her makeup. You remember hearing that she's a little difficult to shoot- clothes look fabulous on her, her face hardly requires any digital touch-ups and she has the ability to portray a lot of things, if you make it clear that's what you're looking for. But as for getting her to connect with the photographer- that's another story. Like trying to develop a personal connection with the moon- beautiful, but remote. Your throat feels dry as you begin to set up your equipment- not just out of your bizarre crush on a girl you've barely spoken to, but if you mess this shoot up it won't look good on your portfolio.

After what seems like both an eternity and the blink of an eye, Natalya glides on the set in an ice-blue dress that drags behind her small frame as she perches on the set, tugging down one of her lace gloves and turning to you. She looks like she just fell out of a storybook and it almost knocks the breath from you. You scold yourself internally. Get a grip!

The first few snaps are just testers, really, and you already feel the beginnings of panic squirming in your gut.

"So you've been in high demand lately," you blurt out. "I guess you must be pretty tired, with all these shoots scheduled."

Natalya shoots you a suspicious look beneath her glittery eyelashes, but she grudgingly answers you.

"Better that than have no work at all," she mutters.

"Ah, right." you reply, a little flustered by her curt response. "Sorry, I guess that's an obvious thing."

And you don't know what it is, but Natalya, tilting her head, appears to take pity on you.

"...No. It is only natural to pay attention to recent models, when they are exciting and new."

She sounds a little sad here, and the next shot you snap of her is breathtaking, easily surpassing all the others you've taken of her so far. You smile encouragingly and Natalya blinks. If you didn't know better, you'd say she was pleased. She has a reputation for being a little unpredictable, but you know a perfectionist when you see one. Takes one to know one, after all.

"True, but I get the feeling that this is just the start," you say, indicating for Natalya to lower her head a little bit. "Your family must be really excited for you."

Natalya's expression darkens slightly, like a cloud passing over the sun, and the camera captures the chilly look perfectly.

"I don't speak with them much," she says, and by her tone you can tell she means for you also to not speak of them. "Oversea calls are expensive."

"Of course." you say, cringing a bit. "You're Russian, or around that part of the globe, right?"

"Belarussian," she corrects, her tone growing warmer again as she tells you a few bits and pieces about her home country, before adding; "My brother is Russian, my sister is from Ukraine."

"You miss them," you nod, biting your lip slightly as you snap another shot. "It's always hard when you move out and start trying to make it on your own."

This time, there is a tiny quirk of her lip, almost imperceptible on her porcelain face. The camera catches that too, and you begin to relax- you've gotten some good shots here, and you don't think you've made too much of an arse out of yourself, even though you still feel that fluttery butterfly sensation in your stomach with the way she looks at you.

"I suppose," she hums, nearly smirking, and you know you're blushing. Damn your fragile skin!

You realise with a jolt that you're nearly out of frames, so wrapped up in everything else that you barely thought about the fact the shoot was nearing its end, the pictures just sort of happening by themselves. You swallow, knowing that any second, you'll be out of shots and Natalya will be summoned off to get changed, leaving you with only photographs, and you know that they can never measure up to the real thing.

"Um, Natalya?" you blurt out, before you have time to hold yourself back. "Do- would- would you like to get a coffee sometime? Or something?"

You bite the tip of your tongue as soon as the words have left your mouth, waiting for a dismissive look from her, or even mocking laughter. Natalya does neither of those things- instead; her face betrays a flicker of surprise, unguarded and sincere for just a moment. Then, she smiles, like a flower blooming in slow motion. Your fingers curve inwards at the sight, accidentally taking the final shot.

"I would like that." she says.

~

A week later, when the new magazines hit the newsagents, hot off the press, Natalya Arlovskya dominates the front page, resplendent in a rippling blue gown that billows around her like a cloud. Instead of her trademark glare, a smile lights up her face, violet eyes fixed directly onto something unseen behind the camera's lens. The spread is a major success, but for Natalya, the biggest reward is seeing you actually waiting for her with, as promised, the coffee hesitantly mentioned. She smiles. Though Natalya is far from home, she reflects as she approaches you that she has found something here that she likes. Something worth staying for.