regulus was a model, he modelled for every company, safe to say he was known world-wide, he wasn't liked by all but he was known, he was a nepo baby too, so that furthered the dislike for some. regulus was very lowkey about his life, so after his mother had died a week ago he hadn't answered any questions from the paparazzi or in any interviews for media outlets, he continued working, plowing through and through photoshoot after photoshoot, runway after runway, being flown out country to country.

why he had gotten so wound up, he would never be able to say, perhaps it had finally dawned on him of the demise of his late mother, the woman he hated yet loved, he could never really bring himself to hate walburga, he was a very complex person with an even more complicated family, sirius his brother whom he had not spoken to for 3 years, a superstar lead singer of a band 'the marauders' and his father who had gotten him into the industry of modelling, which he desperately wanted an out from.

heading into a photoshoot regulus was stressing out in his car, his playlist kept giving him bad song after bad song, which he just could not be bothered removing, he hadn't slept properly for the past 38 hours, he was running on coffee and gum for the last 2 days, he was jet lagged from being flown from manchester right to los angeles in economy next to a screaming toddler.

walking into the building he cringed at the stench of sweat mingling with smoke in the air, he had completely gone off cigs after seeing what they had done to his father. regulus scanned the faces in the room, looking away from them after a second, but his eyes flickered back to someone he recognised, the photographer, you, he had you take his photos a few times but never really noticed you properly.

he was dragged off for his makeup, having his 'blemishes' corrected, they took a good twenty minutes, and thirty more minutes teasing, tugging, and gelling his curls. he was sweating like a pig, he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. oh right photos.