Fleurette Lavigne

New York City, America.

Fleurette Lavigne had only loved one boy her entire life.

She had fallen first, so much harder than she had realized. Her thoughts were only about Hugo de Valois every second of every day everywhere she went. Fleur would only see him, no one else. Granted, it was her first relationship, she didn't know any better. She was eighteen and still in highschool back then, while Hugo was in his last year of university. People had warned her, especially her mother, but she didn't listen. Hugo was the center of her gravity and world, how could she not fall in love with him?

Because he never loved you back.

"Lavigne, Fleurette," the woman called up, shifting her papers on her desk. Fleurette's head immediately perked up, walking over to the table of modelling agents. She steadied her breath, holding her portfolio of photos from previous shoots. She had been waiting in a line of other female models for over an hour, she was glad that she had brought sneakers and her heels in her purse instead. In New York City, everyone wanted a piece of the fashion life, there were so many women at the modelling trial. "Step over there by the backsplash."

"Oh, yes, of course, thank you." Fleurette placed the folder on the table, flashing a smile at the three agents. There was a dark-skinned and balding man, an old woman with gray hair, and lastly, a middle-aged woman with a deep frown. None of them smiled back. Okay, don't screw this up.

The building she was in was new and modern, photoshoots and backsplashes set up everywhere. This place was where the professionals worked. There was the scent of musk wafting in from the singular open window. Outside, Fleur saw the background of NYC's traffic and busy citizens. It was July and it was hot weather, perfect for cute tops and jeans.

Fleurette stepped onto the backsplash, blaring lights flashing at her while the photographer shouted out orders. She quickly changed her position and facial expressions as she heard rapid clicks of a camera. Don't stop, don't even think of anything else, she thought. Fleur continued to do as told until the middle-aged woman said, "Stop."

Fleur glanced back at her. "Is there something wrong?"

The lady looked down at the portfolio. "You didn't write down your agency."

Ah, there was the hiccup that was bound to happen. "I-I don't have an agency, I'm a freelance model. I do jobs here and there," Fleurette explained, hesitant. Instantly, she heard some words of exchange. "But I assure you, I'm just as capable," she quickly added.

The bald man took off his sunglasses. "Miss Lavigne, you need to understand our brands are looking for big label models, people who have experience and are well-rounded. If you aren't booked with a company, well, it'll look rather poor on our part, no?"

"But..." Fleurette swallowed hard. "Is there any chance you'll consider me?"

"We'll give you a call back if needed."

Well, there was another modelling job busted.

꧁°❀⋆.ೃ࿔.*:･･:*.ೃ࿔.⋆❀°꧂

"Ah, qu'est-ce que je t'ai dit, Fleurette? Personne ne veut d'un freelance, idiote. Tu aurais dû aller au collège ou à l'université, ma Fleur," Mère said over the phone as Fleurette entered her cheap apartment. Ah, what did I tell you, Fleurette? Nobody wants a freelancer, stupid. You should have gone to college or university, my Fleur. She only spoke in French when she was annoyed.

"Mhm."

Fleurette could basically see her mother scowling back in California. "Vous venez de déménager à New York, si loin de chez vous!" Mère shouted, yelling into Fleur's ear. You just moved to New York, so far from home! Okay, perhaps her mom was right about that part.

"Yes, yes, Mère, you're always right," Fleurette muttered, fumbling for the lightswitch. After a few false flickers, the lights turned on and lit up her humble abode. It was a cramped living space; a small kitchen with cluttered objects and stacks of dirty dishes, a pull-out sofa that doubled as her eating space, and a half-functioning bathroom. She dropped her bag on the floor, kicking it under the sofa. She'd find it later eventually.

"I just wish you'd come home, ma Fleur," Mère said, sounding rather upset. Fleurette had packed her bags a year ago and flew to NYC without telling her mother. It was a rash choice, she had just gone to New York City to live with Hugo. And he never even fucking showed up, Fleur thought bitterly. A crappy phone call was all I got. "You only visited me once this year."

"Tickets are expensive, Mère, and rent in New York is high."

"Then come home!" the woman shrieked over the phone, practically exploding Fleurette's eardrums. The truth was, she was afraid to come home and face the music. That would mean she had given up her hopes and dreams, accepting defeat. I am not giving up on modelling, she convinced herself.

"Maybe I'll come home for Thanksgiving or Christmas," she said, spotting an envelope on her kitchen counter. Shit, had the landlord come by? Fleurette was sure that her landlord coming into her apartment without telling her broke some law, but she could care less. She ripped the envelope open, her eyes wide. Oh no.

It was a handwritten note along with an eviction notice. Dear Fleurette Lavigne, the note said. It's my apology to tell you that you have broken our lease agreement, you lied to me about your income. Therefore, you have two weeks before I must find another tenant. God, what was Fleur to do? This janky place was the only apartment she could afford, she didn't have a steady flow of money.

"It's July, you foolish girl! Thanksgiving and Christmas are months away! Fleur? Fleur! Are you still there? Mon Dieu, comment fais-tu fonctionner ce stupide téléphone?"

"Uhm, I-I'll call you back, Mère."

"Are you okay? You sound distressed." Fleurette didn't need her single mother worrying about her, it was hard enough to keep herself afloat. Make up another lie, she thought. "Ah, is it about that ex-boyfriend? Ma Fleur, you need to forget about that motherfucker!"

"Mère!" Fleurette exclaimed, shocked.

"No, you listen to me, Fleurette. That goddamn boy told you to run away to New York for him, and he doesn't even come and then breaks your heart. What boy leaves an eighteen-year-old stranded in a completely new city? A motherfucker, that's who!" Mère said angrily. "Si je n'étais pas coincé en Californie, j'aurais pris l'avion là-bas et je lui aurais arraché la tête moi-même!"

"No, Mère, you can't just rip someone's head off!" she grumbled.

"Bah, stop hollering at me! Everything I do is for you!" Mère had gotten too upset, hanging up shortly afterwards. Fleurette crumpled up the handwritten note, but kept the eviction notice. She wandered over to the sofa, falling onto its rickety mattress. She had understood why Mère was so angry about her past relationship with Hugo, Sylvie Lavigne had done similar actions in the past. She had run away to America from France just to live with an American exchange student, only to result in an unexpected child and an absent father.

No mother wants their daughter to end up like them.

Fleurette sighed and swept her hair back into a ponytail as she turned on the crappy TV. The one thing that kept Fleur's day going, watching the news for a few minutes before taking a shower. She watched the daily news, leaning back on her pull-out sofa. Nothing interesting, really.

Just as she was about to turn it off, she heard her name on the television. What? Fleurette sat up, alarmed. The reporter, Cheryl Hollison, was talking while photos of both Fleurette and Hugo showed up on screen. "Fleurette Lavigne, aged nineteen, dated the internally famous Flore & Faune model, Hugo de Valois. They shared a romantic relationship in the past before breaking up sometime in the past two years."

Fleur's heart pounded once she saw Hugo's photo again. Sharp facial features, pale skin, black hair, and a natural smirk. Get him out of your head, she forced herself to listen to Cheryl Hollison. "They are now bittersweet exes with de Valois at the top rankings of the modelling world, whilst Lavigne is a struggling and freelance model." Goddamn it, they made Fleurette sound like a street rat. "However, what about de Valois' current girlfriend, Lucille Blanchard?"

Fleurette shut her eyes, holding her head in her hands. Not Lucille Blanchard. She had seen them everywhere online, holding hands and sharing drinks. They both were famous and wealthy runway models for Flore & Faune, they were the power couple in the fashion industry. Lucille was just so beautiful, with that stunning blond hair and doe eyes. They were everything Fleurette wished she and Hugo were.

Bittersweet exes. Yes, and that's all they would ever be.

A/N: Just to clarify, the cast is NOT out or has even been made yet. However, this prologue is just about Fleurette to give you an idea of who she is. This also explains her whole breakup thing with Hugo better. Also I'll give a cookie to anyone who can spot all of the SOUR and GUTS references in here haha <3