who needs clothes when you have chest hair {KERLZ

[HECTOR LÉON]

- - - - - - - he got the money; man, he got the fold lines
- - - - - - - but he got the problems banging on his door

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Valto Severi was one of those places Hector went when he felt like skipping class and making sure that that money his parents had stocked up in his ‘college funds’ didn’t get too lonely sitting around and collecting dust. A designer boutique with ‘only the finest, straight from Italy’ (though, ‘Valto Severi’ was hardly an Italian name, or even the designer’s name at all, but it sounded far better than ‘Shelly Arnold’), Valto Severi was the kind of place that most college kids walked past every day on their way to the store for some ramen and Cheez Whiz, thinking, “When I’ve got my degree, and I’m rich and famous, I’m shopping there.” It was the kind of place where as soon as you stepped in the door, you were immediately pounced upon and sized up by the clerk to see if you were poor enough to be watched like a hawk or rich enough to be tended to like a puppy.

And once you’d made it past the greeter (see: bouncer), you’d come to realize that Valto Severi was like any other designer boutique with its harsh lighting and barren floors and walls to make you feel less ‘clean and safe’ as would be expected, and more ‘you-don’t-fit-in-please-leave-before-you-stain-our-perfect-store-with-your-impoverished-filth.’ Everything was white, from the scratchless tile floors to the freshly painted ceiling, with a steel chandelier in the center and thin strips of bright white lights lining the borders of the room. The only color was the occasional abstract canvas hung modestly from the walls, and even they seemed to say, “This is you, you grimy poor creature. You bring disharmony to our pristine clarity, and you should be utterly repulsed by your own refuse.” All the sales representatives wore neatly fitted pencil skirts or blazers, with their hair slicked back or combed into sleek ponytails without the slightest hint of a stray hair, and they all seemed to smile in that smug “Get-the-fuck-out” kind of way as they ushered you to “Check out the newest lines in polo wear!” conveniently placed at the front of the store so that the plebeians would see the door and feel the initiative to, indeed, get the fuck out.

But of course, Hector was one of the people who was never invited to browse the polo wear. Being the son of an important ambassador and a model who occasionally endorsed Valto Severi as their prime choice in clothing, Hector need only drop his name and his credit card at the door and the store clerk would follow him around like he was an apple hung in front of her donkey, calling him things like “Mr. Léon” and “Sir.”

Usually Hector reveled in this kind of treatment, but at the moment, he was starting to tire of the young woman’s uncomfortably close attentiveness. After feeling the girl’s excited breath inches from his neck as she told him for the twenty-eighth time in an hour how ”Marvelously that tie brings out your simply lovely eyes,” or how ”That collar really spectacularly accentuates your breathtakingly beautifully chiseled jaw,” or how ”Terribly perfectly wonderfully incredibly perfectly perfect that suit fits you,” Hector thanked her and politely bid her to leave him the hell alone for ten minutes, if she could stand it. As she pranced away, her neck flushing red, Hector turned back to the short rack of clothes, shifting through the shirts boredly. He had already looked through them three times, and already owned at least half of them. Pivoting on his heel, Hector scanned the small store, trying to find something new in there to at least occupy his time.

WORDS;;[/b][/color]605
TAGGED;;[/b][/color]kerli
OUTFIT;;[/b][/color]i'm no good at polyvores.
NOTES;;[/b][/color]disclaimer: no chest hair was harmed in the making of this post
DE;;[/b][/color]lake. pls do not take anything.

[HECTOR LÉON]

- - - - - - - he got the money; man, he got the fold lines
- - - - - - - but he got the problems banging on his door

[/font][/center]

And there, when he turned, Hector saw what he was certain was the most beautiful girl in the world, or, at least, the most beautiful girl in his immediate line of sight, or, at least, the most beautiful back-of-the-head in his immediate line of sight, because that was all he could see. Hector stopped, at a loss (for what he was quite certain was the first time in his life) for words, and blinked thoughtlessly at her hair for what felt like infinity as time slowed around him and the entire world was her and only her. He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat and patted down the wrinkles in his pant legs subconsciously, and he thought for sure that he had just experienced love at first sight and there could be nothing greater in the world than this girl’s back-of-the-head.

As Hector’s personal sales representative was about to prod him out of his love-stricken trance, he reached behind him to place the shirt he held on the rack (though it would perhaps be more accurate to say he shoved the shirt unceremoniously against the rack and left it hanging all askew from the pocket of a pair of slacks which seemed to greatly alarm the store clerk and caused her to rush the rack with wide frightened eyes and flailing hands) and began to stroll all too casually to the other side of the store where the love of his life awaited. As he neared the girl, Hector’s mind said to approach her, but his feet carried him away. Instead, he found himself trapped at some rack a few feet off, fingering aimlessly through a series of shirts he knew he’d never wear, simply for the fact that they cost less than fifty bucks. His eyes flicked towards her, catching the side of her face with one quick glance, and he made to say something, but his voice got caught in his throat and he hesitated. No, not yet, he told himself and turned back to the clothes.

Three times he did this, surreptitiously from the rack, praying she wouldn’t catch him before he managed to think of a slick approach. After the third No, not yet, Hector started to wonder if ‘yet’ would really ever come, and finally simply forced himself to turn his body squarely towards her. “Hey, do I know you from somewhere?” he asked, blurting the first words that came to mind.

WORDS;;[/b][/color]409
TAGGED;;[/b][/color]kerli
OUTFIT;;[/b][/color]i'm no good at polyvores.
NOTES;;[/b][/color]none
DE;;[/b][/color]lake. pls do not take anything.

[HECTOR LÉON]

- - - - - - - he got the money; man, he got the fold lines
- - - - - - - but he got the problems banging on his door

[/font][/center]

Hector was completely fazed. He stared, one eye twitching, utterly at a loss for words, as this girl—this goddess—turned away from him and stepped off in the direction of the dressing rooms, leaving him with his mouth ajar and his mind swimming. Just like that, he’d been rejected for, as far he could recall, the first time in his twenty-one years of life. Eyes darting between the nearest store clerk and the shopper she was trailing, Hector looked pleadingly for help as though he were about to cry out, ”Did anyone just see that?” because he couldn’t possibly believe it for himself.

After gazing glossy-eyed after her for a few dumbfounded seconds, Hector finally blinked as the burning dryness kicked in his eyes and moved to trail after her. “Haha, really?” he chuckled uneasily as caught up to her in an awkward walk-jog-skip sort of gait. Stepping beside her, he shoved one hand in his pocket, the other rubbing the back of his neck (which was now forming a thin layer of sweat despite the chillingly brisk temperature that the boutique was kept at). “You know, ‘cause I just thought… You just—ah—you just look like someone I know… is all,” he stammered, starting strong and quickly ending on a weak note. He looked at his feet, completely perplexed that some girl could turn him into a bumbling fool. Then again, something in the back of his mind, like a feather tickling ever so lightly at the base of his skull, told him this wasn’t just ’some girl’.

Coughing into his shoulder, Hector finally made a swift move to sidestep in front of her. He swung his body around, making to stop her in her tracks, and rubbed his palm anxiously on his pant leg. “I’m Hector,” he introduced suddenly, extending a hand to shake. Then, tilting his head, he arched his eyebrow. “You come here often?”

Because clearly, that was the most suave thing he could have said. Realizing how incredibly tacky that must have sounded, Hector closed his eyes tightly and shook his head as though it would somehow erase that memory from both his mind and hers. “Ah, not that that was supposed to be some cheesy pickup line,” he explained, pinching the bridge of his nose in the utter disbelief that he had just said that. “I mean, I just haven’t seen you here before is all,” he tried to clarify, but at that point it seemed fruitless. The damage had already been done—Hector was beginning to think he should just walk away quickly and pretend it had never happened.

WORDS;;[/b][/color]438
TAGGED;;[/b][/color]kerli
OUTFIT;;[/b][/color]i'm no good at polyvores.
NOTES;;[/b][/color]i wrote this in, like, ten minutes flat. that's got to be a new record for me. XDD
DE;;[/b][/color]lake. pls do not take anything.

[HECTOR LÉON]

- - - - - - - he got the money; man, he got the fold lines
- - - - - - - but he got the problems banging on his door

[/font][/center]

Kerli, Kerli. The name resonated in his head like she were saying it in some echoing hall (though, to be fair, that’s less of a simile and more of a redundancy, because Hector’s head was probably lacking enough in brains that it was rather empty as an echoing hall). Something else resonated in there, too—something that beckoned Hector to completely win this Kerli girl over and save her from some terrible fate or another—but it was quiet enough, and Hector was able to put it down enough to having simply fallen madly in love, that he compressed it into the back of his head and ignored it. And if anyone questioned his mental health while he was having these feelings of being not-completely-alone in his own mind, he could just claim that he was crazy in love.

When she spoke, Hector’s eyes widened a bit. ”First time?” Hector echoed in exaggerated surprise. He looped his thumbs around his back pockets and stretched his elbows behind him, puffing out his chest. “Huh. I’m here, like, every week,” he said with a nervous laugh, not particularly knowing how to respond, but knowing sure as hell that he didn’t want to mess this chance up. So long as he could just keep her talking long enough to get her phone number, he figured he was in for good. Leaning back against a wall beside the fitting rooms (though, admittedly the wall was a bit further back than Hector had anticipated, and he rather stumbled back against the wall than he did coolly lean into it, because one cannot always know what is directly behind oneself, and this time luck was against Hector) he crossed his arms and looked at her with a relaxed tilted head.

“But, you know, of all the models I’ve seen or—ahem—been seen with here,” he said, coughing slightly as if to give off a ‘no-big-deal-I-just-date-models-and-all-which-could-totally-happen-to-anyone-(but-probably-not-really-anyone)’ sort of vibe, “I can’t say a single one of them was pretty as you.” Hector smiled roguishly at her and winked.

But after a sigh he crossed one leg over the other and glanced casually down at his fingernails as if all that could interest him in the world were there. “So listen,” he began almost boredly, and at last his voice came easily to him as he grew more confident in his approach. “Not that clothing stores aren’t the most perfect place for getting to know someone,” he said as his eyes scanned the store critically, “but why don’t you and I go grab a bite to eat or something?” Then, as if to ‘sweeten the deal,’ he cocked one eyebrow and leaned in, speaking alluringly under his breath. “It’d be my treat.”

WORDS;;[/b][/color]455
TAGGED;;[/b][/color]kerli
OUTFIT;;[/b][/color]i'm no good at polyvores.
NOTES;;[/b][/color]oh, this is pretty bad, but at least i got something posted finally. >.<
DE;;[/b][/color]lake. pls do not take anything.

[HECTOR LÉON]

- - - - - - - he got the money; man, he got the fold lines
- - - - - - - but he got the problems banging on his door

[/font][/center]

Well, this wasn’t working out. In fact, this was clearly working out very poorly on Hector’s part. Kerli pressed past him and waltzed into the dressing room, leaving behind a desolate Hector mixed with equal parts despair and anger at having been wholeheartedly snuffed by the woman of his dreams. He rolled onto his shoulder so that he was leaning sideways against the wall and, rubbing his brow nervously with knuckle of his thumb, stared at the ground where her feet had disappeared behind the fitting room curtains. “Ahh, right,” he said weakly, wondering for the first time if this was just a lost cause. After all, she was already gone from his sight, and it didn’t seem long before she was gone completely from all aspects of his life. But in the same moment he thought it, that recurring thing in the back of his mind gave him a kick to keep talking, and he cracked his knuckles in determination.

Standing a bit straighter, Hector propped his elbow up against the wall and held himself up with a fist against his temple. “Well, you know, if you can’t go tonight, we can always go some other time,” he called into the dressing room, sounding just a bit too hopeful. Of course by this point Hector had realized that Kerli hardly wanted to talk to him, nonetheless go out with him—Hector was dumb, not socially retarded—but somehow he couldn’t shake the desire to simply even be around her, and he figured that if he persisted enough, she would eventually have to come to accept him. He had to keep reminding himself that a man never won by not trying at all, and the worst she could do was have a restraining order called. And maybe if he did keep trying, she would eventually find herself falling for him—after all, who could resist Hector Léon?

Besides, now she was trapped in a dressing room with the only exit being straight past him, so even if she tried to escape, he was at least guaranteed the ability to follow. “You know,” he started, realizing that this was the opportune moment to get all he wanted to say to her out, “if you just give me your phone number, I could just text you or something sometime when you’re not busy, and we could get dinner.” Hector reached automatically for his pocket, not waiting for Kerli’s response to withdraw his phone and immediately begin typing her name under a new contact (though, unsure of how her name was actually spelled, he began filing it under “Curly”). He then stared down at the small lit screen as though it held his entire life in that one contact, and then looked expectantly at the dressing room curtain that was the only border between himself and his most splendid Kerli.

WORDS;;[/b][/color]477
TAGGED;;[/b][/color]kerli
OUTFIT;;[/b][/color]i'm no good at polyvores
NOTES;;[/b][/color]nothin'
DE;;[/b][/color]lake. pls do not take anything.