Oh, the Irony (Bianca Del Rio/Roy Haylock x OC)

Chapter 5- Hotwheels

Clarke had one leg propped up precariously on the side of the sink and another balancing on a stack of cleansing wipe packets, desperately trying to get her stomach into view of the small mirror in the bathroom. Roy had offered to give him accessibility to the full body mirror in his bedroom but Clarke declined, saying "It'd feel weird."  He furiously contoured, the sponge in his hand feeling soaked with foundation. Eventually, he stepped back and smiled at the result. "Took a while." He shifted his pants, cautious of the packer carefully tucked away in his underwear. "What do you think?" He called Roy over. His face was hard to read for a moment before a wide smile spread across his face. "It's great. Realistic, too."
"Bitch, I know you want this." He winked. Roy raised an eyebrow and his brown eyes rolled but he said nothing. "Right, fuck off. I'll order you a cab, yeah?"
"Please."
Roy quickly looked over at his friend before walking away and calling a cab. Clarke watched tentatively, noticing the way his dark hair was fluffed, twirled and swept across with his hands as he talked. He had a habit of tapping his left foot too, especially when he was saying long sentences. He'd rhythmically tap along to the sound of his own voice as if were pacing himself. " It'll be here in 15 minutes."
"Have you got any more cri-chips?"
/////

The venue smelled vaguely of sweat, beer and hair spray. That was how you knew you were about to have a good time. "Dude! You're here!" Clarke turned his head and saw an unfamiliar figure with dark blue hair and a blue moustache. He abruptly pulled him into a bone crushing hug and Clarke spluttered slightly. "Oh-h... Hey." He said with a smile, not wanting to admit he had no idea who anyone was. "When are you up?" They asked, white teeth gleaming at him.
"In like... 20 minutes, I think."
"That's cool! Hey, I gotta go, talk to you soon, yeah?" Clarke nodded slowly and with that, the blue haired man pranced off. Recognizing his confusion, one of the men chuckled. "That's Navy Deck'd. We all think he had a crush on you- we saw him on your Instagram." Clarke paled. That Navy bloke seemed incredibly obnoxious. "Really? That's... flattering, I guess."
"We think it's a british fetish." 
Clarke nodded vaguely and began setting down his stuff and pulling out his phone, making sure to check on his social media like the basic bitch he admittedly was. 
Facebook was boring, Twitter was dead as he hadn't posted in months but his Instagram was a bit more lively. Sure enough, a user called NavyBlueSails_ had liked every single one of his pictures within the space of half an hour. With a slight smirk, he decided to text Roy to make his boring night infinitely  better with his presence.
Lmao ive got an admirer
It took a few moments before there was a reply.
 Keep dreamin' bitch xo -Cuban Gay
He laughed at the name he saved Roy as, thinking himself a comedy genius of sorts.
 Shut up im hot. everyone wants some of my plastic dick
Cuban Gay has sent a photo
Attached was a photo of Roy cringing. His skin and hair was wet with small droplets of water rolling off the tips of his eyelashes. He must have just got out of the shower. Clarke took note of the tanned skin covering his taut shoulder muscles and the little freckles on his collarbones.
Shifting in his seat uncomfortably, he banished all images of Roy in the shower that for some reason filled his mind and simply said
 cleansing the gay away?
Oh, honey. That'd take all day. -Cuban Gay
Im onstage in 5. wish me luck
Hope you totally bomb it. -Cuban Gay.
Clarke's eyes rolled and he put his phone in his pocket, feeling irritated at the lack of sex he had been getting. He was 23 years old and hadn't had sex in almost... 8 months, oh God. "You're all red." Said a voice from somewhere. "Oh." He muttered before going down the corridor to the left and stepping onto the stage, the sound blaring in his ears and the smoke irritating his eyes.
/////

It had been a while since he had a day off. In his favorite thermal socks (everyone automatically acquires one once they reach 40) and with a blanket wrapped around his body, he scrolled through the tv channels, deciding all of them were useless. He pulled out his phone as he often did, and once he opened up the browser, he had an epiphany. Alex said she was a model, right? It'd be interesting to see her not in a baggy t shirt and jeans. He started to type her name into the search bar, frowning at the lack of results. Alex Barr Model produced no results either. He paused for a second. Alexandria Barr Model worked, however. A few images of Alex popped up, her face almost unrecognizable. It was slightly fuller, and warmer, her eyes seemed... brighter somehow. It was almost definitely photoshopped but the more images he scrolled through, the more different she looked. One photo in particular stood out to him. Alex was looking up with her mouth slightly open, her hair soaking wet and a little black smudged under her eyes. She looked hopeful, as if she were in awe of something.
Alexandria Barr, 19 from Sheffield, England. 6th of May 2011
Roy found himself saving the picture onto his phone for reasons he wasn't aware of. Nor did he want to be. Suddenly, it buzzed.
it went well btw- Basic Blanco Puta
He smirked to himself, finding the name he saved her as endlessly amusing.
Good. What songs did you do?
The usual -Basic Blanco Puta
Which is?
A lot of dumb shit. Tbh i hate all the music i lipsync to but whatever lol -Basic Blanco Puta
I don't lipsync so I don't have that problem. Anyway, get home. I'm ordering pizza.