Janoir - V

"Get out of the way!"

Cerise snaps out of a daze and turns her head in the direction of the shout, there, by the corner of the studio building dashed a man, his hand clinging to the pole to swing his body away from the crossing and to escape the men chasing after him in suits.

"Janoir? Why are you running-"

Janoir pulls the three of them into the nearest open door, shutting the mahogany block behind him and leaning on it to catch his breath. Cerise stood quiet, mind in a panic for her safety, she decides to use Jean as a shield in case this Janoir is actually a runaway prisoner.

He rests his hands on his knees, throwing his head back to get rid of the sweat. "fan craze?" Jean offers his hand to help him up and pats the back of his dirtied vest in the process, intricate tattoos visible on what was not covered by it.

"father craze" He replies, inspecting Cerise's figure half-hidden behind Jean.

"Who's this?"

"Cerise.” Cerise manages to blurt out but it sounds like a whimper, even she was surprised at the audacity, a question obviously NOT directed to her.

"Nice to meet you."

"Same."

Jean checks his watch while Janoir makes sure the coast is clear and the three of them come back outside.

“Now that you’re here, care to join us for a snack?” Jean suggests and the younger is all too glad to decline, his unexpected marathon taking a toll on his stomach so the next destination points to a place with sugar.

A sweet shop. Joy’s sweet shop, coincidentally matching Cerise's pastel outfit and the pink shoes- she can sleep next to the door and no one would ever notice her there.

Orders came fast, Janoir downing a full plate of (disgustingly) mixed ice cream, the sight almost making Cerise puke. “Sure you can finish that?” Jean points at her meal the way she snorted at Janoir’s, he sipped on some weird-looking coffee and Cerise steals it from his grip, faux delight plastered on her face. “I’m calling this dinner”

“It’s diabetes” He comments, lips on the straw of his coffee- not bothering to wipe it and Cerise cringes at the indirect kiss.

He submerges in his own thoughts for a while, bringing a moment of silence to the table and Cerise feels a glare at the side of her head, she moves and catches noir man staring. “What?”

“What relationship do you two have? It’s concerning.”

Cerise shrugs, not minding the thought and leaving Janoir to wonder on his own. At some point, the conversation is led to random questions, either being about Cerise and Jean or why-the-hell Janoir was being chased.

“Ask away”

“What would you make me wear for a day at the mall?”  Cerise is thrown off by his question, unprepared as she only has irrelevant answers in stock. So, she chose a piece of clothing she's recently taken a liking to.

“A mini skirt.”

“Not a good idea” Jean chides and you’re not sure how to interpret his comment “Excuse me?”

“I mean, who would want a to see a 6-inch dangling-”

Cerise squints at the younger shoving a macaroon down the poor aurum’s throat and he vaguely ignores her. She's still hung on it, thinking of the possible but at least it ought to satisfy Janoir's need to know about her.

“Any news from Taylor?” The topic strays further, Janoir pats his stomach, peeking under his shirt as they start conversing. As he said, for people she'd just met she was oddly at ease, neither cautious nor blasé. Cerise isn't much of an introvert but sometimes she has a hard time keeping up with strangers-which they aren’t anymore so what’s the point in rushing?

It makes her feel somewhat at home even if the circumstances are between actual workmates taking a break, though she wasn't an official member of the company as she still has to acquire master's degrees before her bloody father deems her applicable for a position. She doesn't complain though- not verbally that is.

Education may be ten hells but it’s a logical path to money, Cerise sees the fun in the rewards so she doesn't particularly do things if it means no good for her.

Why endure something that isn’t worth it?

“Cerise? Are you okay?” Jean calls out for the fifth time, at this point he had to place the back of his palm to her forehead. Cerise sets her thoughts aside and gives them a questioning look, Janoir shoots her one of indifference, too preoccupied in his own world to function.

“I’m fine?”

She manages to say though it comes out like a quake and it doesn’t do good to Jean’s worry, sounding unsure herself. “You were mumbling aloud sweetheart, thought I had to call for help” Cerise furrows her brows in confusion, surely she had her mouth shut?

Silence.

“So,” Janoir starts “how do you guys know each other?”

Cerise chokes, liquid making its way up her nose when she inhaled and both men are nauseated at the sight when snot peeks from her nostril.

“Her name is Cerise.” Jean recalls the asked topic, a smug grin thrown to her hot face and Janoir is too endearing to ignore his given ‘duh’.

“She’s actually Go. Go Cerise”

“Doesn’t ring a bell”

“Go Bane?” Jean finally drops, bored to his wits as the younger failed to guess in time. Janoir turns the switch in his brain and the dots connect, tongue rolling an organic “holy crap” before the charmer comes out.

“Apologies. Can we start over with the introductions? Right? Right.” He confirms himself, with an evidently fake smile as he bows “I’m Jone Janoir, Pleasure to meet Director Go’s daughter.”

Cerise nods, too off-put with his sudden change in tone, an ignorant child transforming into a chic professional. Celebrity perks? she quotes, inner self relieved that this man was no ex-convict. The fact that he knew her father’s real name is enough proof.

His intro caught the entire shop’s attention, filling it with gasps and silent clicks of cameras, neither a bright flash gets rid of the obliviousness on their booth.

The clock continues ticking, subject matter flying from touchy models (courtesy of Janoir) and how much the two of them hate mint Ice cream. Some of the gossip which a girl from a nearby booth eavesdrops to stifles a laugh when the youngest burns up in humiliation.

Like a drunk, Cerise inquires “what would you be if you weren’t a model?”

Both of them look lost for a second, Janoir’s gaze dims and Jean replies incessantly to divert the attention off of him.

“I’m who I am right now because I had no choice.”

“What about you? what’s your dream?” Jean asks.

“I don’t have one, but as a child, people always told me that my ‘real’ parents were in the sky. So I guess, It’s to see what’s beyond the sky.” Cerise clutches her head in pain, massaging the temples as she repeats the statement, shocked by herself because that definitely did not come from her.

The world spun, lights faded and she felt the need to scream for comfort yet she feels her mouth moving, talking but no sound came out. She can hear laughing- so sinister that she can’t get it out of her head.

This isn’t the first time this has happened so why is she in a panic?

She's always wakened up in a daze at random hours, swans talking to her as if she’d approached them first, events lined up in their calendar which was neither hers nor Sal’s handwriting. It scares her at times but she's used to it, there’s a trigger. She's simply not sure what.

She feels a vibration in her pocket, her hand seeking it and she sees light. Her vision focuses and she's back at the sweet shop, pinky finger intertwined with one of the boys as they laugh. The device vibrates again, its chime becoming annoying with each passing second, the notification pops up indicating 6 missed calls from an unknown number and a text message. Cerise opens it and the panic settles in her heart.