Emmett slapped idly at the hangers on the rack. Despite shopping specifically the black shirts and pants section, he wasn't finding anything. Too tall, too thin. He glanced at the door of the shop. Maybe Tab wouldn't notice if he snuck outside for a smoke.

"Find anything?"

Emmett blew out a sigh. Too late.

"Nothing here is going to fit me." Emmett said as he turned. He was going to say more but he lost the words at the sight before him. Tab's arms were laden with what looked like half the store. "What's all of that?" Emmett asked nervously, spotting some other hues besides black mixed in with the pile.

"Some stuff I thought you should try on."

"I'm telling you you can put away anything with short sleeves right now." He made a grab for a few of the items but Tab turned away, clutching them defensively.

"There is such a thing as layering you know. How can you advertise yourself as a fashion photographer when you don't care anything about clothes?"

"Because I learned from being a model. You just put on whatever your agent says and dress plainly otherwise."

Tab seemed thrown by this for a moment. "Well then, just pretend I'm your agent for the day. Trust me, I do actually know what I'm doing."

Emmett felt doubtful but Tab looked so eager. I can't start letting him have his way. "We're wasting our time, you'll find out soon enough."

Luckily the fitting room had no limit to the number of items you could take inside with you. They must not have cared if things got stolen cause they didn't have an employee standing guard either. Thrift store indeed.

Tab awkwardly piled the items on a bench in the stall before Emmett forced him out with the door. He gave another sigh when he was alone. How did it come to this?

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. A floor length one, he hated them. You could see too much. He hadn't looked at anything but his face and hands in quite some time. If he was slipping too far backwards again he didn't want to know. It was safer not to expect anything, good or bad, of himself.

Emmett turned away, plucked the blackest thing he could out of the pile and slipped it on. His own shirt he left draped on a hook. Hopefully it wouldn't end up mixed up with all of the rest of it.

When the shirt was on he glanced in the mirror. It didn't fit. He tried another. Same story. The "no" pile kept growing.

A knock at the door. "Emmett? Do you like anything?"

"None of it fits."

"It doesn't have to fit. If you like something enough I'll hem it for you."

Emmett didn't answer. Tab seemed a lot less cute when he was being so persistent.

"Will you try on that floral one."

"Fine."

"And let me see it on you."

"Fine!"

Emmett had to dig through the pile a bit to find it. A silky button-up with a floral print featuring poppies in shades of grey. Just holding it in his hands he knew it was too big. He slipped it on anyway, as requested.

"Oh yes, your tent fits perfectly." Emmett said dramatically as he opened the door. Tab was leaning against the wall and he perked up as he eyed the shirt. "But it has potential." He started to reach for the fabric but stopped short. He shook a box of sewing pins that was already in hand. "May I?"

Emmett frowned. A fitting? He hadn't sat through one of those in a long time. Not since everything had gone to shit. "If you stick me with one of those we're done… and you'll be the one buying my clothes for me."

"I promise, I'll be careful." He opened the little box, dropped it on the pile of clothes, a couple poked through his sleeve for quick access. "I think this one will work well, since the sleeves are already the right length for you."

Emmett hadn't considered that. He was hardly thinking of anything as it was. He'd agreed to it but it didn't stop him from being uncomfortable when Tab's fingers pinched the fabric nearer to his true waist. He stopped short of actually touching him but Emmett was still on edge.

"You said you were a model before?" Tab asked as he continued around the lining of the shirt.

"Yeah, that's right." What's it going to be? Are you finally going to bring up my habits? I left you quite the trail of breadcrumbs.

"... no wonder you could still take such a good picture when I took you by surprise."

It was a compliment. It should have been flattering. It only made a bitter taste rise in the back of his throat. "It's a job like any other. You just get used to doing it." Just put on your fake face and smile through all of the criticism. If there had been any shoots that ended with ‘good job today’ the memory of them had all been buried beneath every complaint about weight, effort and attitude. Emmett would have left quite a long time ago if it hadn’t been for… well, he was kind of gone now too, wasn’t he?

“Did you hear me?”

“What?”

“Nevermind. I think you can get an idea of what this would look like when it’s finished now.”

Emmett still didn’t want to but he turned to the mirror. It did actually look like something close to fitting him now, hanging loose enough to not show all of his mistakes, but also snug enough not to make his over 6 foot frame look like a child in his parent’s clothes.

“Maybe you do know what you’re doing.” Emmett conceded.

Reflected in the mirror Emmett could see Tab grinning by his shoulder. It should have been charming but Emmett couldn’t shake this edge of bitterness that had crept into him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled like that.