Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Pedestals ❯ Prologue ( Chapter 1 )

Pedestal

By Ashley Kamine

Disclaimer: Roses are red, violets are blue. Me no own, so you no sue.

Warnings: Mansex. Yaoi. Slash. Whatever you want to call it. AU, eventual lemons.

Prologue

Brad Crawford, world-renowned sculptor, threw down his hammer and chisel in disgust. His work no longer held the life, the movement, the... the poetry... that it had when he first began to carve his images into marble and granite. His latest sculpture, supposedly of an angel, seemed dead and listless. Oh, it was pretty enough, and it would be fine for the garden it was commissioned for, but it was uninspired. It disgusted him.

The young artist stood back from the statue of the angel that he'd been carving, wiping beads of sweat from his forehead. The veins in the stone called to him, but the shape he needed them to form refused to come to life. They wanted to be something else, someone different than the wealthy man's wife who he was supposed to be calling forth from the stone. This had happened on his last few works as well. He needed new inspiration. A new medium, a new studio, a new model. Anything to revive his artistry.

Crawford shook his head, sending a shock of black hair tumbling onto his forehead which he swiped at irritably., and decided to call one of the modeling agencies in the city. With one last glance at the stubborn hunk of rock, he went to find a phone book that wasn't completely out of date.

"Rosemary's Modeling School," a chirpy voice answered when he'd decided on a place. "This is Rosemary, how may I help you?"

"Do you hire out models, as well as teach them?" Crawford asked, trying to be patient.

"Yes, we do. Can I get your name, and what kind of job you need filled? Clothes, swimsuits, acting..."

"Artist's model. I don't care if they're male or female, but preferably androgynous. My name is Brad Crawford. And I need them quickly, if that's possible. By tomorrow." Crawford tapped his fingers on the desk, waiting for an answer while the woman on the other end thought.

"I think I've got one who's got experience as an artist's model. His name is Aya, and he's available tomorrow. How long will the engagement be?"

"Indefinite. A week at the least. I'll pay whatever is asked, plus a bonus if he works well."

"Alrighty, then. His fee is thirty-five dollars an hour, and I'll send him over tomorrow morning. What time would work for you, Mr. Crawford?" Rosemary asked. Aya was one of her better models, and a teacher at her school, but he could be spared for someone as famous as Brad Crawford. Her mother had one of his sculptures in her home, and she'd be happy to send Aya to work for him.

"Nine, please. Thank you." He gave the woman his address and hung up, then went to shower. He trusted that whoever the woman sent would be fine. If not, he wouldn't pay and he'd just send the boy back.

@----^--------

"Aya, you've got a job tomorrow," Rosemary called down the hall from her office.

"Alright. What is it?" the stoic redhead asked, walking gracefully into his boss' office.

"Artist. Ever heard of Brad Crawford?" she asked, excited.

"The sculptor. He's the one that had a small exhibit at the Guggenheim a few months ago, right? Your mother has one of his pieces."

"That's right! He wanted a model, so I signed you up. I hope you don't mind, it's a great opportunity!" Rosemary was thrilled out of her mind, smiling brightly.

"I don't mind. Give me the details later, there's a class coming in now." Aya headed back out again, not giving any sign of the excitement that raged in him. He knew of Crawford, there was no doubt. He'd seen pictures of the man in the paper when he'd had the exhibit, and when he'd won a prestigious award. He was half in love with the man (and definitely in lust), with his incredible amber eyes and strong body that was as beautifully made as one of his statues. And now he had a chance to work for him. It was a dream come true.

Author's Note: Alrighty. Please read and review this, so I know if it's hopeless or not? PWEEAAASE?