[Fic] Project Love Story - 1/1
Aug. 5th, 2011 04:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
coley_merrinTitle: Project Love Story
Author: Coley Merrin
Pairing: Zhou Mi/Girl!Kyuhyun
Rating: PG-13
Genre: AU, design show
Warning: Girl!Kyuhyun
Summary: Zhou Mi got the chance of a lifetime - going to The Runway. It had to be easy. All he had to do was design clothes, and sew them. But he didn't count on finding a muse - and the ups and downs along the way.
A/N: This is about 3/4 looked over by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wobaozhewo so really all mistakes are mine. Considering the new season of Project Runway just started, this is semi-timely. XD~~
***
***
The notification that Zhou Mi was accepted for one of the biggest sewing and design competition shows drew a reaction that was memorable to everyone around him.
He did not scream, no.
He did not cry, or faint.
Instead, as the man known for big reactions - squeals from tickles, booming laughs - he went utterly, totally silent.
And still.
And everyone else did, too, just looking at him. Watching his free hand start to tremble as he listened to whoever was on the other end of the line.
But, of course, as everyone knows, silence was just the start. For every held breath, there had to be an exhale.
And everyone in the room probably swore afterward that despite the fact they were well indoors, it had begun to pour rainbows from a cloudless sky bursting with fireworks and dancing unicorns.
And if Zhou Mi stopped singing from that moment up to the point where he left join the other competitors, well. The only times were probably when he was sleeping, and even then he was probably mumbling about making sure he had enough to wear. He was going to be on TV, after all. Watching his own designs, clothes he’d be making with his own hands, go down the runway in front of himself and half the country.
The worry, and sleepless nights, and questioning his creativity, and struggles with sewing machines, and possibilities of fights with other designers meant nothing to him yet.
Zhou Mi was going to The Runway.
***
Zhou Mi had watched each season with a mixture of envy, interest, determination, and laughter. Everything looked so easy when it wasn’t him the pressure was on. He could sit on his bed and think that he could do all those challenges with one hand, and question their construction, and fabric choices. And laugh when someone couldn’t figure out how to fix a machine, or ridiculously simple things. Ideas would flow like water!
The metal that ground together with the glass shards and coffee grounds in his stomach seemed to tell him otherwise, as he waited with his fellow designers. They met the show’s host, Hyori, and their mentor, Boa. With some mixture of fear and adulation, a pack of adults who were trapped in possibilities. He felt like he was living in some sort of surreal timeline. A dream, and he wasn’t really there. And staring around at the others, he thought he wasn’t alone. Strained smiles, and too-bright eyes. The waiting getting to all of them.
They didn’t even get to meet their models, only having measurements to work from. He was fine with that. A measurement told him something, at least, about how he’d make his garment. He was one of sixteen designers, a split of men and women. They’d all met, had their little introductions and sized each other up. The frantic dash through the fabric store. Breathing carefully in an out so he didn’t pass out over bolts of twill.
Their first challenge was to define themselves as designers.
And Zhou Mi thought the sleek and sassy jumpsuit embellished down one side pretty much embodied him to a T. Not in the top, not in the bottom, but safe. His model Sooyoung had been nice, tall and slender, just as he was used to from working with models before. But he knew part of the game wasn’t just making clothes. It was finding the model that would be perfect not only for a designer’s clothes, but who would showcase them - and potentially take them both directly to the top.
So he had watched every model go down the runway. Body types, walks, poses. Attitude.
He’d thought it’d be hard to choose. They were, after all, 16 beautiful and accomplished models.
But it was luck at the next challenge, when they were choosing models again that he was called fourth, and was able to choose the model he’d determined he wanted.
Kyuhyun.
Yuri, one of the designers groaned when he made his choice, but he wasn’t there to be friends. Kyuhyun gave him a little smile, and walked off the runway. He felt confident in his choice.
***
The workroom was alternately frenetic and quiet. It was different, in the same way that the interview area was different. Usually when people put their heads down and started working, Zhou Mi could actually hear himself think. It got a little cloying to be around people always chattering and in his space when he was trying to see things. Draping fabric, pinning, getting his muslin ready. Of course, it had its fun moments as well, gently mocking the judges or their mentor.
He realized most people there thought he was gay sometime around challenge three. Not every man in fashion was, and he knew that, but he hadn’t been focused on their chatter as much as he had on his clothes. Slow to make friends at times, he enjoyed people. But the pressure— The pressure got to everyone.
There was certainly no time to get distracted when they had such a short time for fittings. Kyuhyun walked in with a smile, her thick dark hair pulled back in a tail. He greeted her with a squeeze to the arm. Was he gay? No. Did he have a little thing for his model, absolutely. She was far from plus size, but a bit curvier than some of the others. He had a measurement for every one of those curves, intending to lavish them with love - in fabric anyway. She and her killer smile were stunning, but her quietness seemed something they had in common. She had the kind of awkward posing in modeling that could be beautiful, without being too trite.
That suited him, too.
“The shirt’s half done,” he said, and indicated he wanted to fit the pants he was making onto her. Modern business wear. Not his usual niche, but he was trying. “How are you?”
“Very well,” she said, and he had to breathe through his nose as her pants came off, utterly glad they were behind the little paper panel. One thing for him to see, and another for everyone else to. “How has the challenge been so far?”
“Great! I don’t work with suits much, but this design is really cute, I think. Little flower petals, and—“ He rattled as he got her into the pants, making sure they didn’t pull tight at the crotch, or make her butt look saggy or squashed. A crime, all of those. He waited until the cameras were trained off of them before he ventured, “Did you know everyone here thought I liked men?”
She blinked at him in the midst of scraping her hair back. “You don’t?”
He glanced down at his leopard-print shoes and skinny pants. “No? All the models thought so, too?”
Her laugh was immediate and embarrassed. “We had talked about it. About everyone. I guess that’s what we get for assuming.”
He could feel the heat in his cheeks. It wasn’t the first time, probably not the last. He wasn’t offended. He just wanted to be himself.
“Maybe hard to believe but true. How do I get my dream girl, if she thinks I’m not into her?”
Kyuhyun’s fingers knotted together, as though trying to figure out what to do. He could imagine a hug, gripping her sides, but the amused smile she sent him was just about as good.
“Tell her. She’d believe you,” Kyuhyun said, as she touched the light gray fabric of the pants she’d taken off. She pitched her voice low. “A lot of the other girls like your clothes, too. They wish you had picked them, since it’s obvious you’re going to do well. I can’t wait to wear this tomorrow.”
“They had nothing on you on the runway,” he assured her, and they shared a smile. The models would do their jobs - it was in their best interest in the industry to do it. But that didn’t mean that he couldn’t be just the slightest bit proud that Kyuhyun liked what he did. And it was possible she wasn’t being genuine, and telling him what he wanted to hear. But that wasn’t the feeling he got. The cameras had come back to them, so he went back to explaining his design to her, sharing a look. Having the cameras there was getting them to a goal. It didn’t have to be fun.
She sat, watching him piece the intricate details of the shirt until it was time for the models to leave. She waved back at him, smiling again, as she left with the other models.
“Bye, dream girl,” he murmured, and continued his appliqueing.
***
Zhou Mi had seen the guys who objectified the models and made crude jokes, and he wasn’t going to be that guy. He hadn’t been that guy in real life, and wasn’t going to be for the camera, either. There wasn’t any question about whether he was attracted to Kyuhyun, or thought the other models were pretty. Of course he did. He wasn’t there for his hormones. He was there for his clothes. Kyuhyun was the best showcase for those clothes. It helped that she was interesting to talk to, tried on the clothes with an experience eye. When he asked her opinion about how something felt, or moved, she let him know what she thought. Never trying to change his design, just giving him the guidance to know that when she walked down the runway, she’d feel amazing. He styled her hair and makeup in his head, leaving with anxious eyes for his vision to be brought to life by the experienced technicians.
It wasn’t like he thought of her as a doll he could dress up. Not a doll. A woman he’d have loved to photograph, with a subtle smoky eye, and sleek hair. He imagined those dark eyes looking back at him through the camera lens, and focused on ironing. The styling was just little edgy for the office, but he didn’t think he’d get called out on that one. Some of the other models looked like they were going to a party, so he was confident in his choices.
The pants were perfect on Kyuhyun, subtle detail, perfect length and fit. Shirt with the petals he’d put on, and fussy collar, with the matching jacket. He was beaming like he’d just had a litter of puppies as she demonstrated a walk for him. Confident and sexy, and everything he’d envisioned.
And he ignored the grumbles and sideways looks of the other designers. Jealousy was not a good look for them. And he hid most of his insecurity deep down. The only one person he really talked to in the workroom was Eunhyuk. Though their styles were a lot different, there was something that he could trust about Eunhyuk’s raised eyebrows when Zhou Mi asked his opinion. It wasn’t like everyone else was waiting to backstab, but it was a competition.
He came in second on the office wear, and felt accomplished. If he could stay near the top, that was all he wanted.
And he was in the bottom three the next challenge. Kyuhyun stood next to him in the skirt he’d bumbled. Just a little too short. So stupid. Such a stupid mistake. And he hadn’t had time to fix it. And she touched his arm in support as they stood together. She’d done everything she could, including talking him down when he’d started freaking out when she’d come in that morning. Staring at the table and remembering to breathe, and at least putting something on her body. He wished he could buy her flowers. Just standing there was awful, knowing that his mistake could get both of them eliminated from the competition.
That had been the second hug, when they’d gotten backstage.
“Don’t give up,” she said, squeezing his hand. It hadn’t been his turn to go. And he began to think that with her as his model, they could do just about anything.
And the next two challenges…he won.
One was working with hardware of all things, and he’d managed to not make her look like an alien. Little bolts on string draping between her breasts. And the next, a flirty little dress inspired by a museum that they’d gone to. He’d seen a painting of a woman dancing, and had been instantly inspired. He saw Kyuhyun in his mind smiling back at him, looking amazing even with bits of tin hanging off of her, so a dress was nothing to that. And the next step was easy, picking out a fine blue silk. The braiding at the edge of the halter neck, the scooped back. It floated around her, showing of her waist and legs.
The judges had raved, and his heart had soared.
And walking off the runway, in a final moment alone together, the cameras totally gone, she turned to him, and her eyes were almost damp.
“You were beautiful out there,” he told her. The heels he’d chosen for her brought them almost to the same height. He thought she could go to any party in the world, and outshine just about everyone. That was kind of a pat on the back for himself, and for her as well.
“I don’t know if I’ve felt more beautiful,” she admitted, her voice low and hushed. And she touched his hand, not looking at him, expression both unsure and elated at the same time. He squeezed her hand tight, speechless. Able only to shoot her a smile full of gratitude.
He’d almost reached for the door when he turned back, just catching her.
“You’re beautiful in everything!” he blurted. And felt an idiot. Her smile had him floating when he went back in to wait with the other designers, though he tried to school his face. He wasn’t there to gloat.
“Zhou Mi has it hardest of all,” he heard, as he got a drink of water and sat down. “His model is carrying a little extra in places.”
“She’s not a size zero, but she’s hardly plus sized,” Zhou Mi retorted. “Could you fit something to a woman who has actual curves?”
“Oh, that’s why he’s winning. He likes her curves.”
Laughter, and Zhou Mi shook his head, catching a sympathetic look from Eunhyuk. Jealous, Eunhyuk seemed to mouth, looking back at the others. It didn’t matter if it was jealousy, as long as he won. And threading his fingers together in front of his knee, he knew he had.
***
Halfway. Halfway through endless cameras, interviews, yards of muslin. Zhou Mi dreamed of sewing, of sewing machines that ate him. He dreamed of seams that unraveled, and Kyuhyun breaking her ankle, and having no ideas, just to sit with a blank mind and empty head. Drowning in a sea of fabric and his own hopes and doubts.
To stand there at the start of a new and wonder. To succeed or fail.
Elimination hadn’t gotten less stressful. Waiting for the judges to talk through decisions. Having their makeup done for the cameras. The interview rooms were like gaping maws, and he had to keep himself from rambling. They were all exhausted, and sometimes it felt like they were living not to create, but for the moments when the cameras were gone. To lock a bathroom door, and unwind under the hot shower spray. Almost falling asleep, and rocking into his own fist and dreaming.
They were called early from their beds, not unusual. Standing like a herd of broken ducklings as Boa smiled on them with some sympathy.
“We have a few surprises for you all this morning,” she told them.
And there was a collective groan. Surprises tended not to be a good thing. Surprises usually meant extra work or a twist that made them all clutch their heads. One by one, people filed into the room.
He wasn’t the only one undone by their surprise guests. It was a sea of faces unfamiliar to Zhou Mi. No, he recognized one - Eunhyuk’s partner, Daniel. He’d seen the picture of the two of them together, smiling, often enough. Eunhyuk was already crying, and Zhou Mi couldn’t help the smile as he looked for someone who was there for him.
And then Zhou Mi saw Jungmo through the crowd. One of his good friends, who had pushed him toward the show. He listened with only half an ear as Boa told them how long they had, and what was coming up next. He was way too busy grabbing the person who felt like a lifeline. And Jungmo was patting his back.
“You look like you’ve been through war. Don’t they let you sleep? Do we get to meet the models?”
Zhou Mi could only laugh.
It was supposed to be something that gave them a shot in the arm. More drive. And for some, it was. For others, it was a reminder of how much they were missing the people they’d left behind. It was hard to get over that, even as the visit was treasured.
“You got this far,” Jungmo had told him, patting his shoulder. “We’re all rooting for you.”
And Zhou Mi didn’t forget that.
***
It was a challenge that Zhou Mi didn’t win that threw his whole trajectory off course. He hadn’t been in the top or bottom three, but safe. Which was good. Great, even. He’d sent Kyuhyun a smile, told her what a great walk she’d done, as was becoming habit before they parted. And the unease started the next day, all the models in a line in front of the designers. Eunhyuk as the winning designer got to choose his model first. And then the others by random.
But it wasn’t Zhou Mi who called Kyuhyun’s name. It was Changmin. Kyuhyun stood, frozen for a moment, stunned. Zhou Mi was more so, locking eyes on her, stomach clutching like he’d been kicked. She gave a small smile to Changmin, walking off the runway like a broken doll. Some of the remaining models looked smug, some prosaic. It always happened, the model juggling. But who liked being jostled out of their place? Zhou Mi was forced to pick one of the others, Victoria, a model he had admired in the past weeks. She wasn’t Kyuhyun, but none of them were. He had to make the best choice. Even if the ramifications were still settling onto him. His only comfort was that Kyuhyun had to know that he hadn’t chosen someone else by choice. That had been his only option.
It was a testament to how badly he was shaken, Zhou Mi thought, that he brought back as his main fabric a heaping pile of mango-colored chiffon. He’d made his sketches, got his ideas. And wandered around the fabric store in a haze of anger and despair. Not even Eunhyuk had been able to snap him out of it. He didn’t shout and rage. He’d sent a few injured, dirty looks. His main weapon was biting little comments, and barring that, frigid silence. Clutching his fabric and wondering what the hell he was going to do. Beachwear. New model. New measurements. He’d tried imagining making a swimsuit for Kyuhyun and had been frozen at his sketchbook. But forcing himself past that had worked, at least in part.
The clock ticked down and he began to feel more and more distressed. Struggling with a machine, not getting the draping he wanted and having to start over. He did his best to turn everything in his mind off, but it was futile. Going back to that moment, picturing his name getting called first. He stabbed a pin into the pincushion. He should’ve been making this outfit for Kyuhyun.
“They want you to give up over this. Take your power,” Eunhyuk told him, keeping Zhou Mi from drowning himself in his teacup. “Look, there are still more challenges. If you keep winning, you might get a shot at getting her back. Or even keeping her from going home.”
Eunhyuk had been smart, and hadn’t emotionally or creatively invested in his model, who’d been taken by someone else as well. It made sense what Eunhyuk said. But sense meant he had to give up on all his welling feelings, and it was too easy to stew.
What was usually a labor of love in creating garments became just labor. Structuring the chiffon coverup where it resembled almost a dress. Structuring the bathing suit that would go underneath. He would’ve wished on a hundred stars that the fit wasn’t far off.
“Hi,” his model said, greeting him warmly as the models were let in for fittings.
“Victoria. Hi,” he said, taking her hand. He didn’t let himself look up, look around for Kyuhyun. There would be another man fitting a bathing suit to her body. It was her job. Changmin was a designer, not there for anything else. And Victoria was beautiful as well. Slipping into the suit that was about eighty percent completed. He made a few adjustments, at the hem, making sure it fit correctly at her legs. With the coverup, she looked like she could go to any party, anywhere, and she seemed really pleased. It was all just a little lackluster, in his eyes.
“Still sewing to do,” he told her, when she asked how close he was.
“Look,” she said softly, getting down to his level after he’d sat. Always conscious of the roaming cameras, she spoke in quiet, steady Mandarin. “Kyuhyun was pretty broken up about being taken away. It was obvious you two worked really well off each other. Just— I’d be glad to go to the finale with you, too, any of us would, but just keep going, okay? She wants that for you.”
He blew out a breath, finding the guts to look at her. “If I say I want her back, it’s not because you aren’t good enough. But thank you. I’ll do my best. For all of us.”
“Good. Good luck,” Victoria said, and stood as the models were called to leave.
Zhou Mi looked up, helplessly, watching Kyuhyun make her way. And she turned to look at him, almost without hope. And seeing his eyes on her, gave him a subtle thumbs up.
Lackluster wasn’t going to cut it. It wouldn’t get him to the finale. It wouldn’t get him his dreams. It wouldn’t get him Kyuhyun back, or save her from elimination. He glared thoughtfully at the swimsuit in his hands. There was a way to make it all shine.
***
He didn’t win for his swimsuit. Or the next challenge, either. But by that point, at least, he could look at Kyuhyun, wave hello to her. Making sure she knew he hadn’t disregarded her. It was all a little leaden inside, but he knew he just had to keep working. Not that he had any choice, with the tight deadlines, and little sleep. And Victoria was beyond competent, cheering him on, almost passing him little notes from Kyuhyun. She really liked the swimsuit you did. She said she’d have loved to wear it. He didn’t know how to respond really. Praise Kyuhyun’s walk to another model? He half wondered if Victoria was just being kind and transferring praises between them because she was trying to help, or because she wanted to keep Zhou Mi’s spirits up so he’d keep going well - for Victoria also. It didn’t matter, in the end. He’d refocused on the prize. More at stake for himself and his family than a friendship and crush on a model.
The challenge he did win, was the oddest one they’d done. It was a team challenge, and his picked-at-random partner was one he hadn’t talked to much. Picked on and coddled, they’d been at far ends of the workroom from each other. The youngest contestant, Henry, had drawn Zhou Mi’s name out of a bag. And it meant that they had to dress very special models - each other.
The first words out of Henry’s mouth when they’d been allowed to start sharing ideas made Zhou Mi’s mouth flatten.
“I don’t do menswear,” Henry said. “I can’t make make pants for you.”
“Then what are you going to do? A dress? Look at me.” And Zhou Mi motioned down his legs. “All you have to do is rectangles! I don’t even have hips.”
“I haven’t done pants for a woman, either. Construction would kill me. You could pull off wearing a kilt!”
The sound Zhou Mi made was so far from amused. More like terrified. “You realize that you’re supposed to be pleasing your client - me! - right?”
“Kilts are in fashion! Come on, don’t tell me you’ve never thought of it. I’ll make you a hat?”
He hoped his glare told Henry his bribe wasn’t working. But they didn’t have time to iron out the details, because he still had to ask Henry about what he wanted and liked to wear. He was going to follow his client’s wishes in that regard. And he was making Henry pants. He stressed that part, just in case Henry had any chance of being guilted.
“Shorts?” Zhou Mi wheedled as they filed out of the cars to buy fabric.
Henry just shook his head.
So Zhou Mi wore a kilt, and dressed Henry in an edgier version of the clothes he was comfortable in. The kilt was red, yellow, and white, and he didn’t look like he had stepped out of a historical movie, he gave Henry that. The short sleeved shirt complimented his shoulders and body line, even if he was still on the fence about the kilt. And the socks. And the shoes. But the effect was striking, as he’d watched himself get styled. He’d give it that. And it was an interesting change - walking the catwalk himself. Working it.
Henry was candid with the judges about not having wanted to make pants, and they were suitably impressed. When asked if Zhou Mi liked his outfit, Henry had looked over at him with wide eyes.
“I think Zhou Mi was skeptical about it, but I think I was able to show him that pushing the boundaries wasn’t as scary as he thought.”
And he couldn’t have disagreed with that. And luckily, he’d been able to keep his underwear on, whether Scottish men wore any or not.
And against all odds, two totally different fashion tastes, they won. More specifically, he won, for his update to Henry’s wardrobe.
He felt like he was finally back at his game.
“There are four models standing here,” Hyori told them, when it was time to bid models from the double elimination goodbye. “Do you want to choose from them, or do you want me to bring out the rest of the models?”
None of the four was Kyuhyun.
“From the rest of the models, please,” Zhou Mi said, and tried to keep breathing.
The others filed out, solemn in their black dresses. Some fidgeting, some calm, some staring at him in curiosity. Kyuhyun, staring toward the floor somewhere in front of her.
“Which model would you choose?”
“I—“ And he barely kept himself from blurting out Kyuhyun’s name. “Victoria, it’s been amazing working with you. But I have to go with Kyuhyun.”
He hoped the truth in his words made it, but Victoria didn’t seem surprised, smiling at him. And Kyuhyun too, her smile flashing bright before she was allowed to walk off the runway. Victoria was chosen by one of the others, and he breathed easily, that his choice hadn’t sent her home. Though it was sad, always, to see the others go. At no fault of their own.
“It was because of the kilt,” Henry whispered, smirking at him. And he gave the surprised kid a hug.
***
It was like getting an unexpected zap, only more powerful. And a lot better feeling. He felt like king of the mountain even before they’d found out what their new challenge would be. New outfits out of old clothes. New life for the fabric. He felt like he had a new life himself, and managed to snag a dress that wasn’t skimpy on the fabric side. Of course, instead of sewing, he really wanted to go find Kyuhyun and exult with her. Impossible, and hardly within the rules. But he was counting down the hours until they’d get a chance for fittings. And he wasn’t so sure he could hide his enthusiasm.
That moment when the workroom doors opened and the announcement came that their models were coming in very nearly defined his experience at The Runway. He was already standing at his dressform, looking up as the cameras got into place. Hungry. He’d pricked all his fingers at one time or another with needles or pins, and he would’ve suffered through all of that again for the moment that Kyuhyun’s head came into view. And the moment she spotted him, smile flashing before she ducked her head and made her way around the work tables as fast as she possibly could.
All his plans on how to react flew out of his head. Backing up as she approached, and all he had in his hands were scraps of fabric when he went behind the dressing screen. And all they had was muffled laughter, her racing into his arms the second he extended them. Half picking her up and wanting to twirl, and picturing the expression on her face that had been happy and hopeful and everything else as she’d approached him.
“I had no idea—“
“You did it!”
“We can do this.”
“I was so worried—“
Their words jumbled all over each other’s, and he laughed, patting her back as he realized they were taking precious time. For a precious reunion.
“Welcome back,” he said, gripping her shoulders and guiding her back.
Heart struck at the wet in her eyes, and that she tried to hide it.
“Oh. Oh. Here.” He still had the strip of useless muslin in his hand, and used that to smooth and blot under her eyes. “Can’t get mascara on the clothes, right?”
She nodded, taking the cloth and wiping away any lingering wetness. And then looked at him, nodding. And smiled.
“Clothes, right. Competition.”
He sent a grin into the nearest camera lens as he grabbed the half finished garments. Resort wear. Kicky little shorts with a breezy top, and artfully structured jacket. The shirt was of no account, but he made sure the jacket fit correctly over her shoulders and at her waist. Fitting the shorts to her and marking where he wanted to put darts for maximum fit.
“Ah, you look like a slice of watermelon,” he said, turning her.
She blinked at him.
“Cool and good enough to eat,” he mused. “I would make an outfit that reminds me of fruit.
She sputtered a laugh, getting his joke.
It wasn’t without flaws, he knew it. But he could almost imagine it was, since she was back. Sappy. And he knew it.
But no counting his chickens before they hatched. Or his garments before he actually got them hemmed and with waistbands. They used every second of time on the fittings, not even talking after their reunion except for what needed to be done with the clothes. And the time melted away like a snowflake.
She hugged him before going, as most all of the models close to their designers did. And he pressed his lips to her cheek.
Simple farewell, nothing more. Nothing more, even if he wished it could’ve been. He kept it to a smile and a wave after. A friendly smile, not the kind he would have sent her, if he had been meaning to flirt. If she had been in his bed.
She still had that muslin slip in her hand, and shook his head, getting down to the task of finishing his jacket. It didn’t matter what the others thought, or if they were disgruntled by his newfound muse. But the smile didn’t leave his lips.
***
Every new challenge, someone went home, and someone won. The weight of it, the sleepless nights, the endless challenges, wearing on all of them. He was near tears as Henry was eliminated. They had gotten close after the kilt incident, looking forward to Henry’s goofy expressions regarding the choices of the other designers. Changmin went home as well, and his model with him. Could’ve been Kyuhyun. But wasn’t. Of the people that Zhou Mi actually hung around with, only Eunhyuk was left. It wasn’t that he didn’t get along with the rest, he just tended to retreat for his own sanity. And the tension wasn’t lessened, as the numbers went from six, to five, to four. Luna, Hyoyeon, Eunhyuk, and him.
And only three would get the chance to create collections to show at fashion week.
It was a struggle every day not to allow himself to get too far ahead of his achievements. He didn’t get to go to fashion week until someone told him he could. He lived that moment every stitch he sewed. Their current challenge was a look for a supermodel, on Hyori’s request and advice. Elegant, sexy. Out of the box. His mind was made of silly putty, strung out on strings of feathers and fluff. He listened to the demands. What colors she liked, what styles she abhorred. What parts of her body she wanted to accentuate.
The two women had chosen black. Eunhyuk had green. Zhou Mi, red. One way or another, it would stand out. For all the right or all the wrong reasons. Sexy without being trashy. Sleek without being overly simple. Elegant without being stuffy. A high slit on one side of the skirt. Not too high. He wanted Kyuhyun to be able to walk freely, show off how the dress moved. It rose up, curved, to caress her neck, leaving part of her back bare. Earrings to skim her neck, hair coiled and smooth—
It was Kyuhyun he saw in the dress, not the client. But the outcome was the same either way.
He needed every single moment of fitting time, so he urged her out of her clothes so she could shimmy into the dress. He needed the space at the neck to be perfect, to drape over her breasts and catch just right. It needed a little tweaking, and he made some adjustments with his eyes, some with his hands. Marks and pins, taking only the briefest moments to admire the fabric against her skin. Against sheets that color— He stopped himself.
“I love it,” she said, touching the collar that he was going to add subtle sparkle to.
“You’re saying that because you have to.”
She fixed him with a stare. “You need to talk to some of my friends about my tastes. I would definitely never tell you that if I didn’t mean it.”
“Well, it makes sense to practice your flattery,” he teased.
“How about this. I hope you strike it big and have me walk in every show. And then I’ll become a big star and everyone will book me.”
“Cover of every magazine,” he continued for her, liking how his seams were laying over her hips. “Movie deals. Big shot husband.”
“I’d turn them all down for you,” she assured him.
He met her eyes in the mirror, startled. Her expression had been amused, joking. So had her tone been. The expression that came after, as they stared at each other, told him something else. Maybe she’d been jesting, but it almost felt like truth, the way her face went shy. Uncertainty there. Not only because she might have overstepped her bounds.
“At least they’d know you had a good reason why,” he said, and let his expression speak for itself.
All he had to do was focus. He perfected the dress in the time he had left. The slide of the zipper. Stabilizing Kyuhyun as she stepped into the heels he’d picked out ahead of the runway. Her hair had been done to perfection. Her makeup. She looked like a movie star, a model who’d made it big. He wondered how he could top it. That dress on her. The way she glanced at him from under dark lashes. To watch her walk the runway with skill, and more power than he could have imagined. Every inch perfection.
And he stood with his fellow designers, hands trembling behind his back. He knew he’d done well. Knew that his dress fit the requirements. He was one tiny step away from getting a shot at even bigger dreams.
And when they called his name - not the winner of the challenge, but in - he nearly forgot how to walk. Blurting out his thanks and walking off the runway in a daze. Eunhyuk was in, too, winning the challenge. They would both make a collection.
“Your dress was gorgeous,” Eunhyuk said.
“She was,” Zhou Mi agreed absently. And waited to be released.
He looked for Kyuhyun immediately, knowing they would get few precious minutes with their models before being swept into preparations for the next two months. He paid no attention to the others, keeping his eyes open only for Kyuhyun. And when she came in, her eyes were bright.
“You did it!”
“We did it,” he said. And with no screen to prevent it, he picked her up and swung her around. Careful, so careful, as he let her back down. Though he was still spinning inside. They backed into a corner for optimum privacy. “Thank you. You were amazing. You were my muse through this whole thing.”
“Do you know what you’ll do for your collection?” she asked, her hands on his shoulders.
“I have a few images. Mostly what I might want you to wear. But I’m excited. So excited!”
He kissed her, first one cheek, then the other. And hated that it was all he could do. At least in his little fantasy world, he hated it. In reality, they weren’t alone. They weren’t dating. They were colleagues, and it was beneath him to even try. But it didn’t mean that the want was gone.
“I’ll see you in two months. If you aren’t all famous by then,” he said, squeezing her hands.
“I’ll be here. Good luck. I can’t wait to see everything. I’ll miss coming in.”
And through the giddy feelings, realization. It wasn’t going to be forever. He smiled toward her shoulder. “I would say I’d miss being frantic, but…I’ll be looking forward to being a little less frantic for two months. But I will miss working with you.”
Seeing you. Talking to you. Dressing you.
“See you soon,” he said, and had to steel himself to turn.
“Just—“ He paused, as she reached to stop him. He was still, head lowered as she pulled him in.
Kissed him.
“For luck,” she said, and dared him to contradict her with her eyes.
“For luck. Dream girl,” he said, skimming her chin with his fingertips.
And those were the words he left her with, ushered into the room with the other designers. And knowing it had been realization dawning over her face.
Two months apart. Two months, no contact. If there had been feelings there, there wasn’t any guarantee it would still be there after. And as excited to begin the next phase as he was, that realization humbled him.
***
Zhou Mi spent the first week back in his studio apartment just thinking. It felt amazing to be home, to be able to sleep as long as he wanted, have his room to himself, order in food he’d been missing. He made lazy sketches in bed, ideas for outfits and pieces, colors and fabric. His finale piece, the most stunning of them all, would be reserved for Kyuhyun. Kyuhyun. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. His theme was vintage, but the styling was far from it. Elements, perhaps. He didn’t want to just push the envelope, play it safe. He wanted to take the envelope and make a paper airplane out of it. He wanted people to see each individual piece and form dreams off of it. Places it could be worn. Things it could be paired with. A dozen other outfits it would look amazing beside. Of course, having those goals was like saying he wanted Everest to go from a plain to a mountain in two days.
It was the struggle of the artist. Ideas that seemed great on paper, that he scrapped. Buying swatches of fabric. Buying bolts of it. He had dressforms and mannequins and a rolling rack. Golds, blues, reds, blacks. Hints of lace, buttons, trim. The whole second week, he felt like he was in sewing hell. Making drafts, redoing designs, questioning himself.
The third, he worked on Kyuhyun’s dress. He spent three entire days on the bodice alone. Forcing the fabric into tiny drapes, so that it looked like it formed and swirled. He wanted no lines, and his fingers ached from the tension of it. The skirt would be full, partly ruched and dramatic. The sea goddess, filmy. Dramatic. Soft pink lipstick, rioting, curly hair. Like she was on a cliff, and commanding the sea.
It was kind of fanciful. And from there, he refined his vision even more. Vintage, but the rest of the outfits were various stages of what the goddess would wear in daily life. And a couple, those of her minions. He chuckled to himself, pleased with his story, and added a swirl of lace to one of the garments. There was flirty. There was structured. There were different textures, and techniques. But as he flipped through, ordered, arranged, and tried to edit, he liked what he saw. It looked like they all belonged together.
He took a bevy of his friends shoe shopping for the collection, showing them only pictures he’d drawn and not the actual garments. He had only days until he would get a first critique from the show’s mentor, and then only two weeks left for finishing touches. And he still had one garment left to make. The shoes for the goddess gown weren’t as important. No one was going to see them really under the edges of the sweeping skirt. But he would know, and so would Kyuhyun. And he finally found the shoes, an elegant t-strap. Which he would heartily embellish, but that wasn’t the point. One less stress off his mind. He created the necklace for it, the earrings. Trusting no one else for the job, and learning in the precious time he had. Accessories for the others. Bracelets, earrings. On those, he had help, an artist friend who donated his time so Zhou Mi could sew.
Editing, Boa, told him when she came to visit Zhou Mi’s home, was key. He appreciated her mentorship, admired how far she’d come in the industry at such a young age. They stood together and looked at all he had accomplished, and all he had yet to to. She encouraged Zhou Mi to take a step back, and not overdo it.
On a few outfits, he took her advice. The rest, he left as they were. He couldn’t do more, or less. He wanted to win or lose knowing it was his own vision. Knowing that any regrets he had, couldn’t be put on the runway.
He packed and repacked. Jewelry. Shoes. Each garment in carefully prepared bags or containers. Not one sequin was getting left behind. The last week had gone too fast, and too slow.
And arriving, he’d greeted Eunhyuk and Hyoyeon, and they’d been swept immediately into model casting. The other girls who would wear their clothes. The girls who would come in to be fitted, and would carry their dreams down the runway with them.
Everything was unpacked and hung, carefully. Blouses, skirts, dresses. Eyeballing around to see what the others had done, weighing one collection against the other. Not too many wrinkles, and no snags, he was glad to see. And he was holding his breath for fittings to start. Almost literally.
Step by step. Waiting as the models came in. Kyuhyun’s smile.
He actually had no idea if she’d leaped into his arms or if he’d swept her up, just that there were near-squeals - luckily he contained them. Brief seconds of contact that made his skin sing.
“You look amazing,” he said, taking her hands instead. “I missed you. The clothes missed you.”
Her hair was a little longer, and she looked rested. A little anxious. He was all of that and more. But he showed her the collection, taking in every sound and compliment. Answering her thoughtful questions about how outfits went together, and waiting for the reveal of the goddess dress.
And he watched her, not the dress. The widening of her eyes as she looked from bodice to skirt and back up. Looking to him for a moment, and back, as though she didn’t really believe it was real.
“This is what I’m wearing?” she asked.
And her wonder stoked the fire in him to win, for the thousandth time.
“Let’s see you in it,” he said, and stripped the gown from its special hanger. In just bra and underwear, he helped her into it, reveling as the zipper went up her back like it had been molded to her. He could take in the bodice, just a touch, right at the top, but he’d been expecting that. He’d left it a little loose in case she’d had any weight fluctuations. Just in everyday makeup, her hair down, she looked spectacular. Turning in the mirror so she could see every angle. The drop and angled waist. It nearly needed no embellishment, but he knew it would be twice as stunning with it.
“Zhou Mi. I don’t know what to say.”
He touched her hip, soft through the draping. He could see everything on her face. “You don’t have to say anything. You gave me luck. I used it.”
“I didn’t give you this much.”
But there wasn’t anything he could tell her. Not when the announcement was made, and they had mere moments to get her back out of the dress, and on her way so that he could start fitting the other models.
“We can talk after,” he assured her. “I promise I won’t like any of the others more than you.”
And he saw a dimple come to play beneath her lips as she grinned. He had a mountain of work to do. He just had to do it.
***
The herds of wildebeest running around in his stomach and grinding the glass further into it came back to play. Alterations were done. Shoes, outfits, accessories lined up. He’d consulted with hair and makeup, and all the models were being prepared. He would be second to present, and though he had done shows before, he was a wreck. He half wished he smoked, or could get a drink, and was forced to down green tea and protein bars to keep himself from shaking. Tweaking outfits as they were put on, swapping earrings. Moving up the line and trying not to let his hands shake visibly. He was like a high-strung dog, that finally learned to breathe as he went model by model. Did they feel okay? Remember what they’d talked about regarding walking? Great.
The finale dress he’d left for last, simply because it was the hardest to get together. He had to help Kyuhyun into it. Draping the back down so it covered the zipper and gave the illusion that the dress was one solid piece. Like she’d been born in it.
He adjusted the filmy mock sleeves at her shoulders, straightened the necklace. She showed off her shoes in a tease, lifting the skirt a little.
“Perfect fit,” she declared.
He thought of the hundred things he wanted to say. And could only settle on, “Thank you.”
But he thought she understood. He had time to go back up the line one last time, help with the final preparations, and then it was his turn to introduce himself. The lights, the crowd. He saw the judges, smiled at them. His friends. Looking at faces he didn’t know, faces of competitors who had gone home. It was his moment.
“Hello everyone! It’s been a real journey to get here tonight. I’m so excited to be able to show you my collection. I want tot hank my friends and family, and the friends I’ve made here. I couldn’t have done it without them. I hope you enjoy!”
He managed to get backstage without falling, and the music started. He huddled at the monitor, watching his life’s dreams march down the runway. No wobbles. No falls. Just confident women showing off his clothes. Piece by piece, they were shown. Dramatic, and soft. Wearable, but different.
And Kyuhyun took his breath away. There wasn’t anything Boa could do for him, no last advice to give, but to pat his back several times to keep him upright. So he didn’t just bend over and start wheezing. The train of the dress moved with her, flipping forward just a little, just as he’d wanted as she stopped, posed. Owning the runway like the goddess he’d envisioned the dress to be for.
The parade, as all the models went back out. Kyuhyun’s arm was in his , and he waved to the friends who had made it. He might as well have been walking on lily pads for as much as he acknowledged the catwalk. Watching and smiling for the people who cheered.
Everyone was clearing out, so the next designer could go, and he was hugging Kyuhyun with one arm almost absently as they went to the ready room. She would stay in the dress, but the others he had to help out of their outfits.
“You had to have won,” Kyuhyun whispered to him, as he left her there to go help.
He wished he’d had her confidence. To have to wait, and then to go back and stand in front of the judges. To talk about his collection, his vision. To allow them to admire the time and effort he’d put into making Kyuhyun’s dress perfect. Just having her there had been a comfort. But he could keep Kyuhyun with him.
The waiting had been horrendous, the three of them, him and Eunhyuk and Hyoyeon chattering nervously about everything and nothing. Models, clothes, the last couple of months, years, lifetimes.
When they went back out to face either elimination or elation, they didn’t have their models beside them.
Eunhyuk was eliminated first, and Zhou Mi had a hard time smiling as he walked away. He wanted for everyone to be able to have it, even as he was glad to still be standing there.
But he stood there with Hyoyeon, one of two. A 50% chance of winning, and losing. He inhaled, tried to keep his emotions in check. Yearned for it. Feared it. Pleaded for it. Told himself he’d be just as much without it.
Kyuhyun had been right.
He won.
***
Staggered.
He was staggered, from the moment his friends and Kyuhyun came spilling onto the catwalk to congratulate him. He wasn’t sure there were coherent sounds that came out of his mouth, hugging everyone. Jungmo nearly took his head off, and Kyuhyun clutched his hand. Kyuhyun’s words just wisps in his mind, as he was shoved and did his duty in thanking the judges and letting everything settle.
A new car. Money. A chance to make something of himself. He didn’t know if his hand was too tight around Kyuhyun’s, but he couldn’t let go.
There was time only for another hug, not even his brain working, after they’d filed off. He was in shock, utter shock, and answering on autopilot as people talked to him. He woke up only when he realized he was going to get swept up into interviews, wrap-ups. Things that could take hours.
“Can you excuse us for a minute, guys?” he asked, and was allowed to guide Kyuhyun into an empty room. He gathered her in, and breathed against her neck, and hoped he didn’t stink of fear. “Thank you for not crying out there. I wouldn’t have made it.”
“It was a close call,” she said, patting his shoulder blades and making him laugh.
“You were - all the others were wonderful - but you were amazing. Warrior…mermaid goddess. Amazing.”
“Everyone saw what you wanted to show. You did it. I was just happy to wear it.”
“And you’ll get a photoshoot. I do want to see that.”
“You can’t get away from it,” she guaranteed him. “Cover of every magazine, right?”
“Everything I told you before I left was true. You really lifted me up during all of this. Kyuhyun.”
He hadn’t made her into a goddess. She was still Kyuhyun. Woman, model. Not beyond him or untouchable. Beautiful and bright, and the center of all his feelings.
It was impossible not to kiss her. Watching her eyes go wide, and lips part, just before he met them with his own. In one logical corner of his head, he thought he would get away with only a single kiss. Just a friendly press, something he’d been dreaming of since her “good luck” goodbye. But it was as fleeting a dream as a chocoholic getting out of a candy store with just one bite. Her hand met his hair, and he sighed for her, nudging their lips together a little closer. The heels brought her to the perfect height, to let the kiss glide and move. Ten times the kiss he’d been hoping for, as he dropped his head and inhaled.
He took note of the quirking of her lips, and smiled sheepishly. “I didn’t even ask if you had a boyfriend.”
“I— Zhou Mi.” She laughed, shaking her head. “Obviously. No.”
And she kissed him to prove it. A solid meeting, quick, like he’d been half intending before. He was breathless and intrigued and hopeful. He’d won the competition, but was he going to get the girl?
“I’m going to be here forever,” he said, and she nodded, knowing that already. But he scrounged a pen and piece of paper off the desk, writing down his phone number. “Call me? If you leave a message, I’ll call you back as soon as I’m free.”
“I will. Good luck. But first.” He poked out his lips as she wiped at them with her fingers. “You had lipstick…”
From her mouth.
And she kept him from another kiss that would’ve yielded the exact same results. He had things to do. And he did a little dance on his way out the door that had her laughing. And he knew that wasn’t the last time he’d hear it.
***
If Zhou Mi hadn’t slept too well the night before presenting his collection, no one blamed him. But that lack of sleep, combined with endless cups of tea and coffee, caught up with him as the evening wore on. He snuck in a 30 minute nap, nothing short of a miracle, sometime between interviews and the wrap-up filming. Miraculous that his adrenaline let down that long. He’d won it. And he hardly believed it, even though he’d been congratulated by every last person on Earth. The congratulations party was small, awkward, and quick, and he took from it what he needed. It was proof of his being tired, that when he was finally given back his phone after filming, he blinked to see he had a few messages. It was after midnight, and he dialed his voicemail. Knowing at least one of them was from Kyuhyun.
“Hey,” she said softly. “Congratulations. Did I even say that earlier? Call me when you get a chance. Doesn’t matter what time it is. Okay? Okay. Bye!”
He chuckled at the abrupt end. And debated. It wasn’t some horrendous hour, like four in the morning.
She answered on the second ring.
“Is it naptime?” he asked, gathering the last of his things. He’d be able to come back the next day to finish cleaning up, and for final photos.
“You survived?” she asked, humor in her voice.
“I did. Just barely. I think they wanted me to eat an outfit as my last challenge.” He grinned at her laughter. “So you’re probably all settled for the night. But I wanted to call.”
“Actually… I’m not settled. I’m just down the street, eating. I was waiting, in case… In case.”
“Oh. I’m just about done here. I can get a taxi and come to where you are?”
She gave him the street corner she’d be at, and he was more ready than he’d been before to get out of there. She spotted the taxi as quickly as he spotted her, opening the door for her and scooting over so she could get in. The bulky bag she was carrying clanked suspiciously when she got in, but she waved away his curiosity.
“Where did you want to go?” he asked.
“Where are you staying?”
“I arranged for a hotel room for tonight.”
“That’d be fine,” she said, face devoid of any hint of insincerity. And he gave the driver the directions. He was a little perplexed, pretty sure she didn’t have a bomb stashed in there. It was okay to him, too, because he’d get to relax and not have to move. But he wasn’t sure what her thoughts were. Sex? Talking? He was sure he had the energy for one of those, but possibly not both.
And he kind of wanted to prolong the sex thing, a little. They hadn’t even agreed to date. And he wanted at least a date or two under his belt before getting there. Under his belt. Hah. Probably more than that, if every other relationship he’d had held true. Not like he didn’t want her, but he figured she deserved that much consideration and respect. She needed to be as sure of him as he would be of her.
And the fittings hadn’t counted as dates. Preludes, perhaps. Appetizers.
He paid the taxi driver, climbing out behind her and leading her inside. Checked in already, all they had to do was ride the elevators and find the room. It was a clean room. Just a double bed, since he’d anticipated sleeping alone, and he hadn’t had a chance to dirty it.
“I brought celebration gifts,” she said, her bag landing on a chair. And he landed on a chair right after, waiting for her to unveil her goods.
“Champagne. Two kinds of Chinese beer. Soju,” she said, carefully placing all four varieties on the table in succession.
He stared between the alcoholic beverages and her face. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”
She giggled irresistibly. Probably as worn out as he was. “That sounds like it could be fun. But I thought we could have a toast. And I didn’t know what you liked.”
So she’d brought some of everything.
Adorable.
“Let’s try the champagne and move from there,” he suggested, grinning. “If you like that.”
“I didn’t bring anything I wouldn’t drink. I got the best I could.”
And she left the honors to him, to open it. The popping of the cork, he hoped, not waking any neighbors. She had to race to get the complimentary squat little glasses before the champagne fizzed onto the table. And almost toe to toe, sitting in the hotel chairs, they toasted each other.
“To us,” he said.
She almost choked. “To you. All I did was—“ And quailed a little as he glared at her. She conceded, “To your talent and clothes and my walk.”
The champagne fizzed and bubbled over his tongue, and he sighed. “I don’t really believe it’s true. Like I’ll wake up and think I dreamed it.”
She pinched his arm, and got an eye roll for it. It was comfortable, with her. Rehashing the day. The collection. The walk.
“Thanks for believing in me,” he said softly.
“Oh. I brought something else,” she said, popping up to dig into the bag again.
It was a small watermelon, not even as big as his head. And he realized she’d somehow remembered. Maybe she really was his dream girl after all.
“I don’t have anything to cut it with,” she realized a little belatedly, frowning at the fruit as though that would open it.
He stared around the hotel room, wondering what he could possibly use. “Well, if we don’t break the desk… It could work.”
Watermelon rind, meet edge of desk. He thought he was just denting the fruit at first, but a more enthusiastic swing made an actual crack.
“I feel like I’m a monkey learning how to use tools,” he told her over his shoulder. She was making noises of concern. For him or the desk, he didn’t know.
But he widened the crack until he was able to use his hands on the table to pull the fruit into jagged uneven parts. He drained his glass of champagne, and used it to scoop the deep pink flesh out.
“Just a little ingenuity,” he said, grinning.
They ended up on the floor, the bag from the ice container spread out under the watermelon, with paper towels from her bag to catch spills.
“Picnic indoors,” he sighed, and stretched out on his back. He could almost feel every vertebrae crack as he did it. He’d been upright far too long, that much was clear. And the pleasant buzz from the alcohol was definitely helping him to relax. He’d envisioned coming back, and sleeping right away. But she’d had a good plan after all, even as she was still using the glass to get out more of the fruit.
She hummed, licking juice from her fingers. “I didn’t know if they’d all go together. But I think they do.”
He was going to sit back up in a moment, he swore it. Not a good host if he just lay on the floor next to her, with his hand on her knee. Too long, and he knew he’d be out like a light, hard floor or not.
He watched as she lifted the fruit toward his mouth, taking the piece of fruit lightly from her fingertips. Sweet, but not too sweet, liquid, refreshing as he pondering. Despite the earlier kisses, it hadn’t felt like she was there to seduce him. Even then, as she lightly touched his mouth, he got wonder, and reticence. And it made him sit up properly, taking her hand and getting mostly turned toward her.
And the kiss tasted like melon, maybe a little wet, but it made him smile and want to touch her hair. Not daring to, in case he made it sticky. She sighed against him, and pulled away.
“This isn’t some kind of gratitude, right?” she asked. “Some kind of ‘Thanks for being a great model, and a great muse, and in a minute I’ll find you a shelf?’”
“No. No,” he said, squeezing both her hands. And at the risk of sounding like an idiot, he only hinted at it. “I told you once before what you were to me.”
Her lip indented under her teeth. “Dream girl?”
“Exactly. Unless you consider me wanting to date you a shelf. In which case, I’d…be your shelf.”
Her eyes were a little incredulous, and he felt a little bit that way himself, at the words that were coming out of his mouth. He’d just won the biggest design show on TV, and was making himself out to be furniture.
“You are definitely not a shelf. But yes. I’d like to date you. If that was a question.”
Finally. Finally.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to ask,” he assured her.
“Maybe as long as I wanted you to?”
He accepted that comparison.
And he got a kiss for his efforts. It was the kind of kiss that sowed comfort through his body. Stroking the backs of his fingers down her arms, and feeling her smile against him. He’d had all those expectations going into the show, into the designing. He hadn’t expected her.
“Zhou Mi,” she sighed against his neck. And he held her closer.
***
Life didn’t change after the show, not so very much. Sure, he was more well known. But his daily life, the sewing, the planning, didn’t change much. The money he’d won wouldn’t stretch forever. It was a hand up, not a handout. But he’d made some important contacts, and after the elation and the deadlines kind of died down, he’d had to learn again how he could create without looming panic.
That night in the hotel, Kyuhyun hadn’t left. It hadn’t been tawdry. He’d offered to take her home, and then offered to let her stay. And she had stayed, dressed in his own pajamas, cuddled against him for part of the night. They’d been both too exhausted to do much but kiss. And her whispers of congratulations as she stroked his hair had followed him into sleep.
It felt a little heavenly. And it might’ve been the champagne, but he was pretty sure he’d had some kind of surreal dream about Kyuhyun being pregnant, and being frantic to start up a maternity line so he could clothe her.
They hadn’t even had dinner together yet. It had definitely been the champagne.
But the biggest difference, of course, besides the money, the fame, the healing sore spot in his stomach that he thought might be an ulcer - was Kyuhyun.
Girlfriend. Occasional model, though most often in candid photos. She’d had her photo spread, jetting off to be rather famous in her own right. The whole country knew they were dating, and there was speculation about just how early in the show’s run that had started, even if he’d said it hadn’t started until after. But for every gossipy, snippy article, there were two that celebrated their happiness. Pictures of the two of them at events, and movie openings. He made her dresses for all of those, of course. She was still his muse. And when he got ready to show his next collection, she’d already agreed to walk for him. It had started with watermelon and champagne. And sewing needles, and challenges, and TV lights.
Had the show been about the clothes, the construction, the runway?
When they married not long after, the papers had taken to calling it Project Love Story.
***
Author: Coley Merrin
Pairing: Zhou Mi/Girl!Kyuhyun
Rating: PG-13
Genre: AU, design show
Warning: Girl!Kyuhyun
Summary: Zhou Mi got the chance of a lifetime - going to The Runway. It had to be easy. All he had to do was design clothes, and sew them. But he didn't count on finding a muse - and the ups and downs along the way.
A/N: This is about 3/4 looked over by
wobaozhewo so really all mistakes are mine. Considering the new season of Project Runway just started, this is semi-timely. XD~~***
***
The notification that Zhou Mi was accepted for one of the biggest sewing and design competition shows drew a reaction that was memorable to everyone around him.
He did not scream, no.
He did not cry, or faint.
Instead, as the man known for big reactions - squeals from tickles, booming laughs - he went utterly, totally silent.
And still.
And everyone else did, too, just looking at him. Watching his free hand start to tremble as he listened to whoever was on the other end of the line.
But, of course, as everyone knows, silence was just the start. For every held breath, there had to be an exhale.
And everyone in the room probably swore afterward that despite the fact they were well indoors, it had begun to pour rainbows from a cloudless sky bursting with fireworks and dancing unicorns.
And if Zhou Mi stopped singing from that moment up to the point where he left join the other competitors, well. The only times were probably when he was sleeping, and even then he was probably mumbling about making sure he had enough to wear. He was going to be on TV, after all. Watching his own designs, clothes he’d be making with his own hands, go down the runway in front of himself and half the country.
The worry, and sleepless nights, and questioning his creativity, and struggles with sewing machines, and possibilities of fights with other designers meant nothing to him yet.
Zhou Mi was going to The Runway.
***
Zhou Mi had watched each season with a mixture of envy, interest, determination, and laughter. Everything looked so easy when it wasn’t him the pressure was on. He could sit on his bed and think that he could do all those challenges with one hand, and question their construction, and fabric choices. And laugh when someone couldn’t figure out how to fix a machine, or ridiculously simple things. Ideas would flow like water!
The metal that ground together with the glass shards and coffee grounds in his stomach seemed to tell him otherwise, as he waited with his fellow designers. They met the show’s host, Hyori, and their mentor, Boa. With some mixture of fear and adulation, a pack of adults who were trapped in possibilities. He felt like he was living in some sort of surreal timeline. A dream, and he wasn’t really there. And staring around at the others, he thought he wasn’t alone. Strained smiles, and too-bright eyes. The waiting getting to all of them.
They didn’t even get to meet their models, only having measurements to work from. He was fine with that. A measurement told him something, at least, about how he’d make his garment. He was one of sixteen designers, a split of men and women. They’d all met, had their little introductions and sized each other up. The frantic dash through the fabric store. Breathing carefully in an out so he didn’t pass out over bolts of twill.
Their first challenge was to define themselves as designers.
And Zhou Mi thought the sleek and sassy jumpsuit embellished down one side pretty much embodied him to a T. Not in the top, not in the bottom, but safe. His model Sooyoung had been nice, tall and slender, just as he was used to from working with models before. But he knew part of the game wasn’t just making clothes. It was finding the model that would be perfect not only for a designer’s clothes, but who would showcase them - and potentially take them both directly to the top.
So he had watched every model go down the runway. Body types, walks, poses. Attitude.
He’d thought it’d be hard to choose. They were, after all, 16 beautiful and accomplished models.
But it was luck at the next challenge, when they were choosing models again that he was called fourth, and was able to choose the model he’d determined he wanted.
Kyuhyun.
Yuri, one of the designers groaned when he made his choice, but he wasn’t there to be friends. Kyuhyun gave him a little smile, and walked off the runway. He felt confident in his choice.
***
The workroom was alternately frenetic and quiet. It was different, in the same way that the interview area was different. Usually when people put their heads down and started working, Zhou Mi could actually hear himself think. It got a little cloying to be around people always chattering and in his space when he was trying to see things. Draping fabric, pinning, getting his muslin ready. Of course, it had its fun moments as well, gently mocking the judges or their mentor.
He realized most people there thought he was gay sometime around challenge three. Not every man in fashion was, and he knew that, but he hadn’t been focused on their chatter as much as he had on his clothes. Slow to make friends at times, he enjoyed people. But the pressure— The pressure got to everyone.
There was certainly no time to get distracted when they had such a short time for fittings. Kyuhyun walked in with a smile, her thick dark hair pulled back in a tail. He greeted her with a squeeze to the arm. Was he gay? No. Did he have a little thing for his model, absolutely. She was far from plus size, but a bit curvier than some of the others. He had a measurement for every one of those curves, intending to lavish them with love - in fabric anyway. She and her killer smile were stunning, but her quietness seemed something they had in common. She had the kind of awkward posing in modeling that could be beautiful, without being too trite.
That suited him, too.
“The shirt’s half done,” he said, and indicated he wanted to fit the pants he was making onto her. Modern business wear. Not his usual niche, but he was trying. “How are you?”
“Very well,” she said, and he had to breathe through his nose as her pants came off, utterly glad they were behind the little paper panel. One thing for him to see, and another for everyone else to. “How has the challenge been so far?”
“Great! I don’t work with suits much, but this design is really cute, I think. Little flower petals, and—“ He rattled as he got her into the pants, making sure they didn’t pull tight at the crotch, or make her butt look saggy or squashed. A crime, all of those. He waited until the cameras were trained off of them before he ventured, “Did you know everyone here thought I liked men?”
She blinked at him in the midst of scraping her hair back. “You don’t?”
He glanced down at his leopard-print shoes and skinny pants. “No? All the models thought so, too?”
Her laugh was immediate and embarrassed. “We had talked about it. About everyone. I guess that’s what we get for assuming.”
He could feel the heat in his cheeks. It wasn’t the first time, probably not the last. He wasn’t offended. He just wanted to be himself.
“Maybe hard to believe but true. How do I get my dream girl, if she thinks I’m not into her?”
Kyuhyun’s fingers knotted together, as though trying to figure out what to do. He could imagine a hug, gripping her sides, but the amused smile she sent him was just about as good.
“Tell her. She’d believe you,” Kyuhyun said, as she touched the light gray fabric of the pants she’d taken off. She pitched her voice low. “A lot of the other girls like your clothes, too. They wish you had picked them, since it’s obvious you’re going to do well. I can’t wait to wear this tomorrow.”
“They had nothing on you on the runway,” he assured her, and they shared a smile. The models would do their jobs - it was in their best interest in the industry to do it. But that didn’t mean that he couldn’t be just the slightest bit proud that Kyuhyun liked what he did. And it was possible she wasn’t being genuine, and telling him what he wanted to hear. But that wasn’t the feeling he got. The cameras had come back to them, so he went back to explaining his design to her, sharing a look. Having the cameras there was getting them to a goal. It didn’t have to be fun.
She sat, watching him piece the intricate details of the shirt until it was time for the models to leave. She waved back at him, smiling again, as she left with the other models.
“Bye, dream girl,” he murmured, and continued his appliqueing.
***
Zhou Mi had seen the guys who objectified the models and made crude jokes, and he wasn’t going to be that guy. He hadn’t been that guy in real life, and wasn’t going to be for the camera, either. There wasn’t any question about whether he was attracted to Kyuhyun, or thought the other models were pretty. Of course he did. He wasn’t there for his hormones. He was there for his clothes. Kyuhyun was the best showcase for those clothes. It helped that she was interesting to talk to, tried on the clothes with an experience eye. When he asked her opinion about how something felt, or moved, she let him know what she thought. Never trying to change his design, just giving him the guidance to know that when she walked down the runway, she’d feel amazing. He styled her hair and makeup in his head, leaving with anxious eyes for his vision to be brought to life by the experienced technicians.
It wasn’t like he thought of her as a doll he could dress up. Not a doll. A woman he’d have loved to photograph, with a subtle smoky eye, and sleek hair. He imagined those dark eyes looking back at him through the camera lens, and focused on ironing. The styling was just little edgy for the office, but he didn’t think he’d get called out on that one. Some of the other models looked like they were going to a party, so he was confident in his choices.
The pants were perfect on Kyuhyun, subtle detail, perfect length and fit. Shirt with the petals he’d put on, and fussy collar, with the matching jacket. He was beaming like he’d just had a litter of puppies as she demonstrated a walk for him. Confident and sexy, and everything he’d envisioned.
And he ignored the grumbles and sideways looks of the other designers. Jealousy was not a good look for them. And he hid most of his insecurity deep down. The only one person he really talked to in the workroom was Eunhyuk. Though their styles were a lot different, there was something that he could trust about Eunhyuk’s raised eyebrows when Zhou Mi asked his opinion. It wasn’t like everyone else was waiting to backstab, but it was a competition.
He came in second on the office wear, and felt accomplished. If he could stay near the top, that was all he wanted.
And he was in the bottom three the next challenge. Kyuhyun stood next to him in the skirt he’d bumbled. Just a little too short. So stupid. Such a stupid mistake. And he hadn’t had time to fix it. And she touched his arm in support as they stood together. She’d done everything she could, including talking him down when he’d started freaking out when she’d come in that morning. Staring at the table and remembering to breathe, and at least putting something on her body. He wished he could buy her flowers. Just standing there was awful, knowing that his mistake could get both of them eliminated from the competition.
That had been the second hug, when they’d gotten backstage.
“Don’t give up,” she said, squeezing his hand. It hadn’t been his turn to go. And he began to think that with her as his model, they could do just about anything.
And the next two challenges…he won.
One was working with hardware of all things, and he’d managed to not make her look like an alien. Little bolts on string draping between her breasts. And the next, a flirty little dress inspired by a museum that they’d gone to. He’d seen a painting of a woman dancing, and had been instantly inspired. He saw Kyuhyun in his mind smiling back at him, looking amazing even with bits of tin hanging off of her, so a dress was nothing to that. And the next step was easy, picking out a fine blue silk. The braiding at the edge of the halter neck, the scooped back. It floated around her, showing of her waist and legs.
The judges had raved, and his heart had soared.
And walking off the runway, in a final moment alone together, the cameras totally gone, she turned to him, and her eyes were almost damp.
“You were beautiful out there,” he told her. The heels he’d chosen for her brought them almost to the same height. He thought she could go to any party in the world, and outshine just about everyone. That was kind of a pat on the back for himself, and for her as well.
“I don’t know if I’ve felt more beautiful,” she admitted, her voice low and hushed. And she touched his hand, not looking at him, expression both unsure and elated at the same time. He squeezed her hand tight, speechless. Able only to shoot her a smile full of gratitude.
He’d almost reached for the door when he turned back, just catching her.
“You’re beautiful in everything!” he blurted. And felt an idiot. Her smile had him floating when he went back in to wait with the other designers, though he tried to school his face. He wasn’t there to gloat.
“Zhou Mi has it hardest of all,” he heard, as he got a drink of water and sat down. “His model is carrying a little extra in places.”
“She’s not a size zero, but she’s hardly plus sized,” Zhou Mi retorted. “Could you fit something to a woman who has actual curves?”
“Oh, that’s why he’s winning. He likes her curves.”
Laughter, and Zhou Mi shook his head, catching a sympathetic look from Eunhyuk. Jealous, Eunhyuk seemed to mouth, looking back at the others. It didn’t matter if it was jealousy, as long as he won. And threading his fingers together in front of his knee, he knew he had.
***
Halfway. Halfway through endless cameras, interviews, yards of muslin. Zhou Mi dreamed of sewing, of sewing machines that ate him. He dreamed of seams that unraveled, and Kyuhyun breaking her ankle, and having no ideas, just to sit with a blank mind and empty head. Drowning in a sea of fabric and his own hopes and doubts.
To stand there at the start of a new and wonder. To succeed or fail.
Elimination hadn’t gotten less stressful. Waiting for the judges to talk through decisions. Having their makeup done for the cameras. The interview rooms were like gaping maws, and he had to keep himself from rambling. They were all exhausted, and sometimes it felt like they were living not to create, but for the moments when the cameras were gone. To lock a bathroom door, and unwind under the hot shower spray. Almost falling asleep, and rocking into his own fist and dreaming.
They were called early from their beds, not unusual. Standing like a herd of broken ducklings as Boa smiled on them with some sympathy.
“We have a few surprises for you all this morning,” she told them.
And there was a collective groan. Surprises tended not to be a good thing. Surprises usually meant extra work or a twist that made them all clutch their heads. One by one, people filed into the room.
He wasn’t the only one undone by their surprise guests. It was a sea of faces unfamiliar to Zhou Mi. No, he recognized one - Eunhyuk’s partner, Daniel. He’d seen the picture of the two of them together, smiling, often enough. Eunhyuk was already crying, and Zhou Mi couldn’t help the smile as he looked for someone who was there for him.
And then Zhou Mi saw Jungmo through the crowd. One of his good friends, who had pushed him toward the show. He listened with only half an ear as Boa told them how long they had, and what was coming up next. He was way too busy grabbing the person who felt like a lifeline. And Jungmo was patting his back.
“You look like you’ve been through war. Don’t they let you sleep? Do we get to meet the models?”
Zhou Mi could only laugh.
It was supposed to be something that gave them a shot in the arm. More drive. And for some, it was. For others, it was a reminder of how much they were missing the people they’d left behind. It was hard to get over that, even as the visit was treasured.
“You got this far,” Jungmo had told him, patting his shoulder. “We’re all rooting for you.”
And Zhou Mi didn’t forget that.
***
It was a challenge that Zhou Mi didn’t win that threw his whole trajectory off course. He hadn’t been in the top or bottom three, but safe. Which was good. Great, even. He’d sent Kyuhyun a smile, told her what a great walk she’d done, as was becoming habit before they parted. And the unease started the next day, all the models in a line in front of the designers. Eunhyuk as the winning designer got to choose his model first. And then the others by random.
But it wasn’t Zhou Mi who called Kyuhyun’s name. It was Changmin. Kyuhyun stood, frozen for a moment, stunned. Zhou Mi was more so, locking eyes on her, stomach clutching like he’d been kicked. She gave a small smile to Changmin, walking off the runway like a broken doll. Some of the remaining models looked smug, some prosaic. It always happened, the model juggling. But who liked being jostled out of their place? Zhou Mi was forced to pick one of the others, Victoria, a model he had admired in the past weeks. She wasn’t Kyuhyun, but none of them were. He had to make the best choice. Even if the ramifications were still settling onto him. His only comfort was that Kyuhyun had to know that he hadn’t chosen someone else by choice. That had been his only option.
It was a testament to how badly he was shaken, Zhou Mi thought, that he brought back as his main fabric a heaping pile of mango-colored chiffon. He’d made his sketches, got his ideas. And wandered around the fabric store in a haze of anger and despair. Not even Eunhyuk had been able to snap him out of it. He didn’t shout and rage. He’d sent a few injured, dirty looks. His main weapon was biting little comments, and barring that, frigid silence. Clutching his fabric and wondering what the hell he was going to do. Beachwear. New model. New measurements. He’d tried imagining making a swimsuit for Kyuhyun and had been frozen at his sketchbook. But forcing himself past that had worked, at least in part.
The clock ticked down and he began to feel more and more distressed. Struggling with a machine, not getting the draping he wanted and having to start over. He did his best to turn everything in his mind off, but it was futile. Going back to that moment, picturing his name getting called first. He stabbed a pin into the pincushion. He should’ve been making this outfit for Kyuhyun.
“They want you to give up over this. Take your power,” Eunhyuk told him, keeping Zhou Mi from drowning himself in his teacup. “Look, there are still more challenges. If you keep winning, you might get a shot at getting her back. Or even keeping her from going home.”
Eunhyuk had been smart, and hadn’t emotionally or creatively invested in his model, who’d been taken by someone else as well. It made sense what Eunhyuk said. But sense meant he had to give up on all his welling feelings, and it was too easy to stew.
What was usually a labor of love in creating garments became just labor. Structuring the chiffon coverup where it resembled almost a dress. Structuring the bathing suit that would go underneath. He would’ve wished on a hundred stars that the fit wasn’t far off.
“Hi,” his model said, greeting him warmly as the models were let in for fittings.
“Victoria. Hi,” he said, taking her hand. He didn’t let himself look up, look around for Kyuhyun. There would be another man fitting a bathing suit to her body. It was her job. Changmin was a designer, not there for anything else. And Victoria was beautiful as well. Slipping into the suit that was about eighty percent completed. He made a few adjustments, at the hem, making sure it fit correctly at her legs. With the coverup, she looked like she could go to any party, anywhere, and she seemed really pleased. It was all just a little lackluster, in his eyes.
“Still sewing to do,” he told her, when she asked how close he was.
“Look,” she said softly, getting down to his level after he’d sat. Always conscious of the roaming cameras, she spoke in quiet, steady Mandarin. “Kyuhyun was pretty broken up about being taken away. It was obvious you two worked really well off each other. Just— I’d be glad to go to the finale with you, too, any of us would, but just keep going, okay? She wants that for you.”
He blew out a breath, finding the guts to look at her. “If I say I want her back, it’s not because you aren’t good enough. But thank you. I’ll do my best. For all of us.”
“Good. Good luck,” Victoria said, and stood as the models were called to leave.
Zhou Mi looked up, helplessly, watching Kyuhyun make her way. And she turned to look at him, almost without hope. And seeing his eyes on her, gave him a subtle thumbs up.
Lackluster wasn’t going to cut it. It wouldn’t get him to the finale. It wouldn’t get him his dreams. It wouldn’t get him Kyuhyun back, or save her from elimination. He glared thoughtfully at the swimsuit in his hands. There was a way to make it all shine.
***
He didn’t win for his swimsuit. Or the next challenge, either. But by that point, at least, he could look at Kyuhyun, wave hello to her. Making sure she knew he hadn’t disregarded her. It was all a little leaden inside, but he knew he just had to keep working. Not that he had any choice, with the tight deadlines, and little sleep. And Victoria was beyond competent, cheering him on, almost passing him little notes from Kyuhyun. She really liked the swimsuit you did. She said she’d have loved to wear it. He didn’t know how to respond really. Praise Kyuhyun’s walk to another model? He half wondered if Victoria was just being kind and transferring praises between them because she was trying to help, or because she wanted to keep Zhou Mi’s spirits up so he’d keep going well - for Victoria also. It didn’t matter, in the end. He’d refocused on the prize. More at stake for himself and his family than a friendship and crush on a model.
The challenge he did win, was the oddest one they’d done. It was a team challenge, and his picked-at-random partner was one he hadn’t talked to much. Picked on and coddled, they’d been at far ends of the workroom from each other. The youngest contestant, Henry, had drawn Zhou Mi’s name out of a bag. And it meant that they had to dress very special models - each other.
The first words out of Henry’s mouth when they’d been allowed to start sharing ideas made Zhou Mi’s mouth flatten.
“I don’t do menswear,” Henry said. “I can’t make make pants for you.”
“Then what are you going to do? A dress? Look at me.” And Zhou Mi motioned down his legs. “All you have to do is rectangles! I don’t even have hips.”
“I haven’t done pants for a woman, either. Construction would kill me. You could pull off wearing a kilt!”
The sound Zhou Mi made was so far from amused. More like terrified. “You realize that you’re supposed to be pleasing your client - me! - right?”
“Kilts are in fashion! Come on, don’t tell me you’ve never thought of it. I’ll make you a hat?”
He hoped his glare told Henry his bribe wasn’t working. But they didn’t have time to iron out the details, because he still had to ask Henry about what he wanted and liked to wear. He was going to follow his client’s wishes in that regard. And he was making Henry pants. He stressed that part, just in case Henry had any chance of being guilted.
“Shorts?” Zhou Mi wheedled as they filed out of the cars to buy fabric.
Henry just shook his head.
So Zhou Mi wore a kilt, and dressed Henry in an edgier version of the clothes he was comfortable in. The kilt was red, yellow, and white, and he didn’t look like he had stepped out of a historical movie, he gave Henry that. The short sleeved shirt complimented his shoulders and body line, even if he was still on the fence about the kilt. And the socks. And the shoes. But the effect was striking, as he’d watched himself get styled. He’d give it that. And it was an interesting change - walking the catwalk himself. Working it.
Henry was candid with the judges about not having wanted to make pants, and they were suitably impressed. When asked if Zhou Mi liked his outfit, Henry had looked over at him with wide eyes.
“I think Zhou Mi was skeptical about it, but I think I was able to show him that pushing the boundaries wasn’t as scary as he thought.”
And he couldn’t have disagreed with that. And luckily, he’d been able to keep his underwear on, whether Scottish men wore any or not.
And against all odds, two totally different fashion tastes, they won. More specifically, he won, for his update to Henry’s wardrobe.
He felt like he was finally back at his game.
“There are four models standing here,” Hyori told them, when it was time to bid models from the double elimination goodbye. “Do you want to choose from them, or do you want me to bring out the rest of the models?”
None of the four was Kyuhyun.
“From the rest of the models, please,” Zhou Mi said, and tried to keep breathing.
The others filed out, solemn in their black dresses. Some fidgeting, some calm, some staring at him in curiosity. Kyuhyun, staring toward the floor somewhere in front of her.
“Which model would you choose?”
“I—“ And he barely kept himself from blurting out Kyuhyun’s name. “Victoria, it’s been amazing working with you. But I have to go with Kyuhyun.”
He hoped the truth in his words made it, but Victoria didn’t seem surprised, smiling at him. And Kyuhyun too, her smile flashing bright before she was allowed to walk off the runway. Victoria was chosen by one of the others, and he breathed easily, that his choice hadn’t sent her home. Though it was sad, always, to see the others go. At no fault of their own.
“It was because of the kilt,” Henry whispered, smirking at him. And he gave the surprised kid a hug.
***
It was like getting an unexpected zap, only more powerful. And a lot better feeling. He felt like king of the mountain even before they’d found out what their new challenge would be. New outfits out of old clothes. New life for the fabric. He felt like he had a new life himself, and managed to snag a dress that wasn’t skimpy on the fabric side. Of course, instead of sewing, he really wanted to go find Kyuhyun and exult with her. Impossible, and hardly within the rules. But he was counting down the hours until they’d get a chance for fittings. And he wasn’t so sure he could hide his enthusiasm.
That moment when the workroom doors opened and the announcement came that their models were coming in very nearly defined his experience at The Runway. He was already standing at his dressform, looking up as the cameras got into place. Hungry. He’d pricked all his fingers at one time or another with needles or pins, and he would’ve suffered through all of that again for the moment that Kyuhyun’s head came into view. And the moment she spotted him, smile flashing before she ducked her head and made her way around the work tables as fast as she possibly could.
All his plans on how to react flew out of his head. Backing up as she approached, and all he had in his hands were scraps of fabric when he went behind the dressing screen. And all they had was muffled laughter, her racing into his arms the second he extended them. Half picking her up and wanting to twirl, and picturing the expression on her face that had been happy and hopeful and everything else as she’d approached him.
“I had no idea—“
“You did it!”
“We can do this.”
“I was so worried—“
Their words jumbled all over each other’s, and he laughed, patting her back as he realized they were taking precious time. For a precious reunion.
“Welcome back,” he said, gripping her shoulders and guiding her back.
Heart struck at the wet in her eyes, and that she tried to hide it.
“Oh. Oh. Here.” He still had the strip of useless muslin in his hand, and used that to smooth and blot under her eyes. “Can’t get mascara on the clothes, right?”
She nodded, taking the cloth and wiping away any lingering wetness. And then looked at him, nodding. And smiled.
“Clothes, right. Competition.”
He sent a grin into the nearest camera lens as he grabbed the half finished garments. Resort wear. Kicky little shorts with a breezy top, and artfully structured jacket. The shirt was of no account, but he made sure the jacket fit correctly over her shoulders and at her waist. Fitting the shorts to her and marking where he wanted to put darts for maximum fit.
“Ah, you look like a slice of watermelon,” he said, turning her.
She blinked at him.
“Cool and good enough to eat,” he mused. “I would make an outfit that reminds me of fruit.
She sputtered a laugh, getting his joke.
It wasn’t without flaws, he knew it. But he could almost imagine it was, since she was back. Sappy. And he knew it.
But no counting his chickens before they hatched. Or his garments before he actually got them hemmed and with waistbands. They used every second of time on the fittings, not even talking after their reunion except for what needed to be done with the clothes. And the time melted away like a snowflake.
She hugged him before going, as most all of the models close to their designers did. And he pressed his lips to her cheek.
Simple farewell, nothing more. Nothing more, even if he wished it could’ve been. He kept it to a smile and a wave after. A friendly smile, not the kind he would have sent her, if he had been meaning to flirt. If she had been in his bed.
She still had that muslin slip in her hand, and shook his head, getting down to the task of finishing his jacket. It didn’t matter what the others thought, or if they were disgruntled by his newfound muse. But the smile didn’t leave his lips.
***
Every new challenge, someone went home, and someone won. The weight of it, the sleepless nights, the endless challenges, wearing on all of them. He was near tears as Henry was eliminated. They had gotten close after the kilt incident, looking forward to Henry’s goofy expressions regarding the choices of the other designers. Changmin went home as well, and his model with him. Could’ve been Kyuhyun. But wasn’t. Of the people that Zhou Mi actually hung around with, only Eunhyuk was left. It wasn’t that he didn’t get along with the rest, he just tended to retreat for his own sanity. And the tension wasn’t lessened, as the numbers went from six, to five, to four. Luna, Hyoyeon, Eunhyuk, and him.
And only three would get the chance to create collections to show at fashion week.
It was a struggle every day not to allow himself to get too far ahead of his achievements. He didn’t get to go to fashion week until someone told him he could. He lived that moment every stitch he sewed. Their current challenge was a look for a supermodel, on Hyori’s request and advice. Elegant, sexy. Out of the box. His mind was made of silly putty, strung out on strings of feathers and fluff. He listened to the demands. What colors she liked, what styles she abhorred. What parts of her body she wanted to accentuate.
The two women had chosen black. Eunhyuk had green. Zhou Mi, red. One way or another, it would stand out. For all the right or all the wrong reasons. Sexy without being trashy. Sleek without being overly simple. Elegant without being stuffy. A high slit on one side of the skirt. Not too high. He wanted Kyuhyun to be able to walk freely, show off how the dress moved. It rose up, curved, to caress her neck, leaving part of her back bare. Earrings to skim her neck, hair coiled and smooth—
It was Kyuhyun he saw in the dress, not the client. But the outcome was the same either way.
He needed every single moment of fitting time, so he urged her out of her clothes so she could shimmy into the dress. He needed the space at the neck to be perfect, to drape over her breasts and catch just right. It needed a little tweaking, and he made some adjustments with his eyes, some with his hands. Marks and pins, taking only the briefest moments to admire the fabric against her skin. Against sheets that color— He stopped himself.
“I love it,” she said, touching the collar that he was going to add subtle sparkle to.
“You’re saying that because you have to.”
She fixed him with a stare. “You need to talk to some of my friends about my tastes. I would definitely never tell you that if I didn’t mean it.”
“Well, it makes sense to practice your flattery,” he teased.
“How about this. I hope you strike it big and have me walk in every show. And then I’ll become a big star and everyone will book me.”
“Cover of every magazine,” he continued for her, liking how his seams were laying over her hips. “Movie deals. Big shot husband.”
“I’d turn them all down for you,” she assured him.
He met her eyes in the mirror, startled. Her expression had been amused, joking. So had her tone been. The expression that came after, as they stared at each other, told him something else. Maybe she’d been jesting, but it almost felt like truth, the way her face went shy. Uncertainty there. Not only because she might have overstepped her bounds.
“At least they’d know you had a good reason why,” he said, and let his expression speak for itself.
All he had to do was focus. He perfected the dress in the time he had left. The slide of the zipper. Stabilizing Kyuhyun as she stepped into the heels he’d picked out ahead of the runway. Her hair had been done to perfection. Her makeup. She looked like a movie star, a model who’d made it big. He wondered how he could top it. That dress on her. The way she glanced at him from under dark lashes. To watch her walk the runway with skill, and more power than he could have imagined. Every inch perfection.
And he stood with his fellow designers, hands trembling behind his back. He knew he’d done well. Knew that his dress fit the requirements. He was one tiny step away from getting a shot at even bigger dreams.
And when they called his name - not the winner of the challenge, but in - he nearly forgot how to walk. Blurting out his thanks and walking off the runway in a daze. Eunhyuk was in, too, winning the challenge. They would both make a collection.
“Your dress was gorgeous,” Eunhyuk said.
“She was,” Zhou Mi agreed absently. And waited to be released.
He looked for Kyuhyun immediately, knowing they would get few precious minutes with their models before being swept into preparations for the next two months. He paid no attention to the others, keeping his eyes open only for Kyuhyun. And when she came in, her eyes were bright.
“You did it!”
“We did it,” he said. And with no screen to prevent it, he picked her up and swung her around. Careful, so careful, as he let her back down. Though he was still spinning inside. They backed into a corner for optimum privacy. “Thank you. You were amazing. You were my muse through this whole thing.”
“Do you know what you’ll do for your collection?” she asked, her hands on his shoulders.
“I have a few images. Mostly what I might want you to wear. But I’m excited. So excited!”
He kissed her, first one cheek, then the other. And hated that it was all he could do. At least in his little fantasy world, he hated it. In reality, they weren’t alone. They weren’t dating. They were colleagues, and it was beneath him to even try. But it didn’t mean that the want was gone.
“I’ll see you in two months. If you aren’t all famous by then,” he said, squeezing her hands.
“I’ll be here. Good luck. I can’t wait to see everything. I’ll miss coming in.”
And through the giddy feelings, realization. It wasn’t going to be forever. He smiled toward her shoulder. “I would say I’d miss being frantic, but…I’ll be looking forward to being a little less frantic for two months. But I will miss working with you.”
Seeing you. Talking to you. Dressing you.
“See you soon,” he said, and had to steel himself to turn.
“Just—“ He paused, as she reached to stop him. He was still, head lowered as she pulled him in.
Kissed him.
“For luck,” she said, and dared him to contradict her with her eyes.
“For luck. Dream girl,” he said, skimming her chin with his fingertips.
And those were the words he left her with, ushered into the room with the other designers. And knowing it had been realization dawning over her face.
Two months apart. Two months, no contact. If there had been feelings there, there wasn’t any guarantee it would still be there after. And as excited to begin the next phase as he was, that realization humbled him.
***
Zhou Mi spent the first week back in his studio apartment just thinking. It felt amazing to be home, to be able to sleep as long as he wanted, have his room to himself, order in food he’d been missing. He made lazy sketches in bed, ideas for outfits and pieces, colors and fabric. His finale piece, the most stunning of them all, would be reserved for Kyuhyun. Kyuhyun. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. His theme was vintage, but the styling was far from it. Elements, perhaps. He didn’t want to just push the envelope, play it safe. He wanted to take the envelope and make a paper airplane out of it. He wanted people to see each individual piece and form dreams off of it. Places it could be worn. Things it could be paired with. A dozen other outfits it would look amazing beside. Of course, having those goals was like saying he wanted Everest to go from a plain to a mountain in two days.
It was the struggle of the artist. Ideas that seemed great on paper, that he scrapped. Buying swatches of fabric. Buying bolts of it. He had dressforms and mannequins and a rolling rack. Golds, blues, reds, blacks. Hints of lace, buttons, trim. The whole second week, he felt like he was in sewing hell. Making drafts, redoing designs, questioning himself.
The third, he worked on Kyuhyun’s dress. He spent three entire days on the bodice alone. Forcing the fabric into tiny drapes, so that it looked like it formed and swirled. He wanted no lines, and his fingers ached from the tension of it. The skirt would be full, partly ruched and dramatic. The sea goddess, filmy. Dramatic. Soft pink lipstick, rioting, curly hair. Like she was on a cliff, and commanding the sea.
It was kind of fanciful. And from there, he refined his vision even more. Vintage, but the rest of the outfits were various stages of what the goddess would wear in daily life. And a couple, those of her minions. He chuckled to himself, pleased with his story, and added a swirl of lace to one of the garments. There was flirty. There was structured. There were different textures, and techniques. But as he flipped through, ordered, arranged, and tried to edit, he liked what he saw. It looked like they all belonged together.
He took a bevy of his friends shoe shopping for the collection, showing them only pictures he’d drawn and not the actual garments. He had only days until he would get a first critique from the show’s mentor, and then only two weeks left for finishing touches. And he still had one garment left to make. The shoes for the goddess gown weren’t as important. No one was going to see them really under the edges of the sweeping skirt. But he would know, and so would Kyuhyun. And he finally found the shoes, an elegant t-strap. Which he would heartily embellish, but that wasn’t the point. One less stress off his mind. He created the necklace for it, the earrings. Trusting no one else for the job, and learning in the precious time he had. Accessories for the others. Bracelets, earrings. On those, he had help, an artist friend who donated his time so Zhou Mi could sew.
Editing, Boa, told him when she came to visit Zhou Mi’s home, was key. He appreciated her mentorship, admired how far she’d come in the industry at such a young age. They stood together and looked at all he had accomplished, and all he had yet to to. She encouraged Zhou Mi to take a step back, and not overdo it.
On a few outfits, he took her advice. The rest, he left as they were. He couldn’t do more, or less. He wanted to win or lose knowing it was his own vision. Knowing that any regrets he had, couldn’t be put on the runway.
He packed and repacked. Jewelry. Shoes. Each garment in carefully prepared bags or containers. Not one sequin was getting left behind. The last week had gone too fast, and too slow.
And arriving, he’d greeted Eunhyuk and Hyoyeon, and they’d been swept immediately into model casting. The other girls who would wear their clothes. The girls who would come in to be fitted, and would carry their dreams down the runway with them.
Everything was unpacked and hung, carefully. Blouses, skirts, dresses. Eyeballing around to see what the others had done, weighing one collection against the other. Not too many wrinkles, and no snags, he was glad to see. And he was holding his breath for fittings to start. Almost literally.
Step by step. Waiting as the models came in. Kyuhyun’s smile.
He actually had no idea if she’d leaped into his arms or if he’d swept her up, just that there were near-squeals - luckily he contained them. Brief seconds of contact that made his skin sing.
“You look amazing,” he said, taking her hands instead. “I missed you. The clothes missed you.”
Her hair was a little longer, and she looked rested. A little anxious. He was all of that and more. But he showed her the collection, taking in every sound and compliment. Answering her thoughtful questions about how outfits went together, and waiting for the reveal of the goddess dress.
And he watched her, not the dress. The widening of her eyes as she looked from bodice to skirt and back up. Looking to him for a moment, and back, as though she didn’t really believe it was real.
“This is what I’m wearing?” she asked.
And her wonder stoked the fire in him to win, for the thousandth time.
“Let’s see you in it,” he said, and stripped the gown from its special hanger. In just bra and underwear, he helped her into it, reveling as the zipper went up her back like it had been molded to her. He could take in the bodice, just a touch, right at the top, but he’d been expecting that. He’d left it a little loose in case she’d had any weight fluctuations. Just in everyday makeup, her hair down, she looked spectacular. Turning in the mirror so she could see every angle. The drop and angled waist. It nearly needed no embellishment, but he knew it would be twice as stunning with it.
“Zhou Mi. I don’t know what to say.”
He touched her hip, soft through the draping. He could see everything on her face. “You don’t have to say anything. You gave me luck. I used it.”
“I didn’t give you this much.”
But there wasn’t anything he could tell her. Not when the announcement was made, and they had mere moments to get her back out of the dress, and on her way so that he could start fitting the other models.
“We can talk after,” he assured her. “I promise I won’t like any of the others more than you.”
And he saw a dimple come to play beneath her lips as she grinned. He had a mountain of work to do. He just had to do it.
***
The herds of wildebeest running around in his stomach and grinding the glass further into it came back to play. Alterations were done. Shoes, outfits, accessories lined up. He’d consulted with hair and makeup, and all the models were being prepared. He would be second to present, and though he had done shows before, he was a wreck. He half wished he smoked, or could get a drink, and was forced to down green tea and protein bars to keep himself from shaking. Tweaking outfits as they were put on, swapping earrings. Moving up the line and trying not to let his hands shake visibly. He was like a high-strung dog, that finally learned to breathe as he went model by model. Did they feel okay? Remember what they’d talked about regarding walking? Great.
The finale dress he’d left for last, simply because it was the hardest to get together. He had to help Kyuhyun into it. Draping the back down so it covered the zipper and gave the illusion that the dress was one solid piece. Like she’d been born in it.
He adjusted the filmy mock sleeves at her shoulders, straightened the necklace. She showed off her shoes in a tease, lifting the skirt a little.
“Perfect fit,” she declared.
He thought of the hundred things he wanted to say. And could only settle on, “Thank you.”
But he thought she understood. He had time to go back up the line one last time, help with the final preparations, and then it was his turn to introduce himself. The lights, the crowd. He saw the judges, smiled at them. His friends. Looking at faces he didn’t know, faces of competitors who had gone home. It was his moment.
“Hello everyone! It’s been a real journey to get here tonight. I’m so excited to be able to show you my collection. I want tot hank my friends and family, and the friends I’ve made here. I couldn’t have done it without them. I hope you enjoy!”
He managed to get backstage without falling, and the music started. He huddled at the monitor, watching his life’s dreams march down the runway. No wobbles. No falls. Just confident women showing off his clothes. Piece by piece, they were shown. Dramatic, and soft. Wearable, but different.
And Kyuhyun took his breath away. There wasn’t anything Boa could do for him, no last advice to give, but to pat his back several times to keep him upright. So he didn’t just bend over and start wheezing. The train of the dress moved with her, flipping forward just a little, just as he’d wanted as she stopped, posed. Owning the runway like the goddess he’d envisioned the dress to be for.
The parade, as all the models went back out. Kyuhyun’s arm was in his , and he waved to the friends who had made it. He might as well have been walking on lily pads for as much as he acknowledged the catwalk. Watching and smiling for the people who cheered.
Everyone was clearing out, so the next designer could go, and he was hugging Kyuhyun with one arm almost absently as they went to the ready room. She would stay in the dress, but the others he had to help out of their outfits.
“You had to have won,” Kyuhyun whispered to him, as he left her there to go help.
He wished he’d had her confidence. To have to wait, and then to go back and stand in front of the judges. To talk about his collection, his vision. To allow them to admire the time and effort he’d put into making Kyuhyun’s dress perfect. Just having her there had been a comfort. But he could keep Kyuhyun with him.
The waiting had been horrendous, the three of them, him and Eunhyuk and Hyoyeon chattering nervously about everything and nothing. Models, clothes, the last couple of months, years, lifetimes.
When they went back out to face either elimination or elation, they didn’t have their models beside them.
Eunhyuk was eliminated first, and Zhou Mi had a hard time smiling as he walked away. He wanted for everyone to be able to have it, even as he was glad to still be standing there.
But he stood there with Hyoyeon, one of two. A 50% chance of winning, and losing. He inhaled, tried to keep his emotions in check. Yearned for it. Feared it. Pleaded for it. Told himself he’d be just as much without it.
Kyuhyun had been right.
He won.
***
Staggered.
He was staggered, from the moment his friends and Kyuhyun came spilling onto the catwalk to congratulate him. He wasn’t sure there were coherent sounds that came out of his mouth, hugging everyone. Jungmo nearly took his head off, and Kyuhyun clutched his hand. Kyuhyun’s words just wisps in his mind, as he was shoved and did his duty in thanking the judges and letting everything settle.
A new car. Money. A chance to make something of himself. He didn’t know if his hand was too tight around Kyuhyun’s, but he couldn’t let go.
There was time only for another hug, not even his brain working, after they’d filed off. He was in shock, utter shock, and answering on autopilot as people talked to him. He woke up only when he realized he was going to get swept up into interviews, wrap-ups. Things that could take hours.
“Can you excuse us for a minute, guys?” he asked, and was allowed to guide Kyuhyun into an empty room. He gathered her in, and breathed against her neck, and hoped he didn’t stink of fear. “Thank you for not crying out there. I wouldn’t have made it.”
“It was a close call,” she said, patting his shoulder blades and making him laugh.
“You were - all the others were wonderful - but you were amazing. Warrior…mermaid goddess. Amazing.”
“Everyone saw what you wanted to show. You did it. I was just happy to wear it.”
“And you’ll get a photoshoot. I do want to see that.”
“You can’t get away from it,” she guaranteed him. “Cover of every magazine, right?”
“Everything I told you before I left was true. You really lifted me up during all of this. Kyuhyun.”
He hadn’t made her into a goddess. She was still Kyuhyun. Woman, model. Not beyond him or untouchable. Beautiful and bright, and the center of all his feelings.
It was impossible not to kiss her. Watching her eyes go wide, and lips part, just before he met them with his own. In one logical corner of his head, he thought he would get away with only a single kiss. Just a friendly press, something he’d been dreaming of since her “good luck” goodbye. But it was as fleeting a dream as a chocoholic getting out of a candy store with just one bite. Her hand met his hair, and he sighed for her, nudging their lips together a little closer. The heels brought her to the perfect height, to let the kiss glide and move. Ten times the kiss he’d been hoping for, as he dropped his head and inhaled.
He took note of the quirking of her lips, and smiled sheepishly. “I didn’t even ask if you had a boyfriend.”
“I— Zhou Mi.” She laughed, shaking her head. “Obviously. No.”
And she kissed him to prove it. A solid meeting, quick, like he’d been half intending before. He was breathless and intrigued and hopeful. He’d won the competition, but was he going to get the girl?
“I’m going to be here forever,” he said, and she nodded, knowing that already. But he scrounged a pen and piece of paper off the desk, writing down his phone number. “Call me? If you leave a message, I’ll call you back as soon as I’m free.”
“I will. Good luck. But first.” He poked out his lips as she wiped at them with her fingers. “You had lipstick…”
From her mouth.
And she kept him from another kiss that would’ve yielded the exact same results. He had things to do. And he did a little dance on his way out the door that had her laughing. And he knew that wasn’t the last time he’d hear it.
***
If Zhou Mi hadn’t slept too well the night before presenting his collection, no one blamed him. But that lack of sleep, combined with endless cups of tea and coffee, caught up with him as the evening wore on. He snuck in a 30 minute nap, nothing short of a miracle, sometime between interviews and the wrap-up filming. Miraculous that his adrenaline let down that long. He’d won it. And he hardly believed it, even though he’d been congratulated by every last person on Earth. The congratulations party was small, awkward, and quick, and he took from it what he needed. It was proof of his being tired, that when he was finally given back his phone after filming, he blinked to see he had a few messages. It was after midnight, and he dialed his voicemail. Knowing at least one of them was from Kyuhyun.
“Hey,” she said softly. “Congratulations. Did I even say that earlier? Call me when you get a chance. Doesn’t matter what time it is. Okay? Okay. Bye!”
He chuckled at the abrupt end. And debated. It wasn’t some horrendous hour, like four in the morning.
She answered on the second ring.
“Is it naptime?” he asked, gathering the last of his things. He’d be able to come back the next day to finish cleaning up, and for final photos.
“You survived?” she asked, humor in her voice.
“I did. Just barely. I think they wanted me to eat an outfit as my last challenge.” He grinned at her laughter. “So you’re probably all settled for the night. But I wanted to call.”
“Actually… I’m not settled. I’m just down the street, eating. I was waiting, in case… In case.”
“Oh. I’m just about done here. I can get a taxi and come to where you are?”
She gave him the street corner she’d be at, and he was more ready than he’d been before to get out of there. She spotted the taxi as quickly as he spotted her, opening the door for her and scooting over so she could get in. The bulky bag she was carrying clanked suspiciously when she got in, but she waved away his curiosity.
“Where did you want to go?” he asked.
“Where are you staying?”
“I arranged for a hotel room for tonight.”
“That’d be fine,” she said, face devoid of any hint of insincerity. And he gave the driver the directions. He was a little perplexed, pretty sure she didn’t have a bomb stashed in there. It was okay to him, too, because he’d get to relax and not have to move. But he wasn’t sure what her thoughts were. Sex? Talking? He was sure he had the energy for one of those, but possibly not both.
And he kind of wanted to prolong the sex thing, a little. They hadn’t even agreed to date. And he wanted at least a date or two under his belt before getting there. Under his belt. Hah. Probably more than that, if every other relationship he’d had held true. Not like he didn’t want her, but he figured she deserved that much consideration and respect. She needed to be as sure of him as he would be of her.
And the fittings hadn’t counted as dates. Preludes, perhaps. Appetizers.
He paid the taxi driver, climbing out behind her and leading her inside. Checked in already, all they had to do was ride the elevators and find the room. It was a clean room. Just a double bed, since he’d anticipated sleeping alone, and he hadn’t had a chance to dirty it.
“I brought celebration gifts,” she said, her bag landing on a chair. And he landed on a chair right after, waiting for her to unveil her goods.
“Champagne. Two kinds of Chinese beer. Soju,” she said, carefully placing all four varieties on the table in succession.
He stared between the alcoholic beverages and her face. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”
She giggled irresistibly. Probably as worn out as he was. “That sounds like it could be fun. But I thought we could have a toast. And I didn’t know what you liked.”
So she’d brought some of everything.
Adorable.
“Let’s try the champagne and move from there,” he suggested, grinning. “If you like that.”
“I didn’t bring anything I wouldn’t drink. I got the best I could.”
And she left the honors to him, to open it. The popping of the cork, he hoped, not waking any neighbors. She had to race to get the complimentary squat little glasses before the champagne fizzed onto the table. And almost toe to toe, sitting in the hotel chairs, they toasted each other.
“To us,” he said.
She almost choked. “To you. All I did was—“ And quailed a little as he glared at her. She conceded, “To your talent and clothes and my walk.”
The champagne fizzed and bubbled over his tongue, and he sighed. “I don’t really believe it’s true. Like I’ll wake up and think I dreamed it.”
She pinched his arm, and got an eye roll for it. It was comfortable, with her. Rehashing the day. The collection. The walk.
“Thanks for believing in me,” he said softly.
“Oh. I brought something else,” she said, popping up to dig into the bag again.
It was a small watermelon, not even as big as his head. And he realized she’d somehow remembered. Maybe she really was his dream girl after all.
“I don’t have anything to cut it with,” she realized a little belatedly, frowning at the fruit as though that would open it.
He stared around the hotel room, wondering what he could possibly use. “Well, if we don’t break the desk… It could work.”
Watermelon rind, meet edge of desk. He thought he was just denting the fruit at first, but a more enthusiastic swing made an actual crack.
“I feel like I’m a monkey learning how to use tools,” he told her over his shoulder. She was making noises of concern. For him or the desk, he didn’t know.
But he widened the crack until he was able to use his hands on the table to pull the fruit into jagged uneven parts. He drained his glass of champagne, and used it to scoop the deep pink flesh out.
“Just a little ingenuity,” he said, grinning.
They ended up on the floor, the bag from the ice container spread out under the watermelon, with paper towels from her bag to catch spills.
“Picnic indoors,” he sighed, and stretched out on his back. He could almost feel every vertebrae crack as he did it. He’d been upright far too long, that much was clear. And the pleasant buzz from the alcohol was definitely helping him to relax. He’d envisioned coming back, and sleeping right away. But she’d had a good plan after all, even as she was still using the glass to get out more of the fruit.
She hummed, licking juice from her fingers. “I didn’t know if they’d all go together. But I think they do.”
He was going to sit back up in a moment, he swore it. Not a good host if he just lay on the floor next to her, with his hand on her knee. Too long, and he knew he’d be out like a light, hard floor or not.
He watched as she lifted the fruit toward his mouth, taking the piece of fruit lightly from her fingertips. Sweet, but not too sweet, liquid, refreshing as he pondering. Despite the earlier kisses, it hadn’t felt like she was there to seduce him. Even then, as she lightly touched his mouth, he got wonder, and reticence. And it made him sit up properly, taking her hand and getting mostly turned toward her.
And the kiss tasted like melon, maybe a little wet, but it made him smile and want to touch her hair. Not daring to, in case he made it sticky. She sighed against him, and pulled away.
“This isn’t some kind of gratitude, right?” she asked. “Some kind of ‘Thanks for being a great model, and a great muse, and in a minute I’ll find you a shelf?’”
“No. No,” he said, squeezing both her hands. And at the risk of sounding like an idiot, he only hinted at it. “I told you once before what you were to me.”
Her lip indented under her teeth. “Dream girl?”
“Exactly. Unless you consider me wanting to date you a shelf. In which case, I’d…be your shelf.”
Her eyes were a little incredulous, and he felt a little bit that way himself, at the words that were coming out of his mouth. He’d just won the biggest design show on TV, and was making himself out to be furniture.
“You are definitely not a shelf. But yes. I’d like to date you. If that was a question.”
Finally. Finally.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to ask,” he assured her.
“Maybe as long as I wanted you to?”
He accepted that comparison.
And he got a kiss for his efforts. It was the kind of kiss that sowed comfort through his body. Stroking the backs of his fingers down her arms, and feeling her smile against him. He’d had all those expectations going into the show, into the designing. He hadn’t expected her.
“Zhou Mi,” she sighed against his neck. And he held her closer.
***
Life didn’t change after the show, not so very much. Sure, he was more well known. But his daily life, the sewing, the planning, didn’t change much. The money he’d won wouldn’t stretch forever. It was a hand up, not a handout. But he’d made some important contacts, and after the elation and the deadlines kind of died down, he’d had to learn again how he could create without looming panic.
That night in the hotel, Kyuhyun hadn’t left. It hadn’t been tawdry. He’d offered to take her home, and then offered to let her stay. And she had stayed, dressed in his own pajamas, cuddled against him for part of the night. They’d been both too exhausted to do much but kiss. And her whispers of congratulations as she stroked his hair had followed him into sleep.
It felt a little heavenly. And it might’ve been the champagne, but he was pretty sure he’d had some kind of surreal dream about Kyuhyun being pregnant, and being frantic to start up a maternity line so he could clothe her.
They hadn’t even had dinner together yet. It had definitely been the champagne.
But the biggest difference, of course, besides the money, the fame, the healing sore spot in his stomach that he thought might be an ulcer - was Kyuhyun.
Girlfriend. Occasional model, though most often in candid photos. She’d had her photo spread, jetting off to be rather famous in her own right. The whole country knew they were dating, and there was speculation about just how early in the show’s run that had started, even if he’d said it hadn’t started until after. But for every gossipy, snippy article, there were two that celebrated their happiness. Pictures of the two of them at events, and movie openings. He made her dresses for all of those, of course. She was still his muse. And when he got ready to show his next collection, she’d already agreed to walk for him. It had started with watermelon and champagne. And sewing needles, and challenges, and TV lights.
Had the show been about the clothes, the construction, the runway?
When they married not long after, the papers had taken to calling it Project Love Story.
***
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Date: 2011-08-05 11:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-15 09:38 pm (UTC)i had a busy week dog-sitting two dogs. which is more exhausting than it sounds! haha
this was so sweet! i loved it!
i feel all fluffy and smiley now :)
and the fact that i love project runway doesn't hurt either. haha.
the little cameos of other sm idols was fun! and i like the sound of zhou mi's final collection! i think i want it! haha.
this was positively lovely ♥
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Date: 2011-08-06 12:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-07 02:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-07 02:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-06 12:21 am (UTC)i want to shower you with love right now ;~~~~;
(henry and the kilt! he's great :P)
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Date: 2011-08-07 02:11 am (UTC)Haha. I always said I wanted to get Zhou Mi into a kilt somehow. >.> And Henry's :3 face probably helped. XD
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Date: 2011-08-06 01:43 am (UTC)I've always wanted to write a designer!fic, but never could. So envy to those who can do it.
Then again, I'm envious of everything you write. So nothing new ^^
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Date: 2011-08-07 02:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-06 04:29 am (UTC)I am amazed at how you make it seem as if this story is built upon your experiences in fashion. Are you in the fashion industry? (wait are you in the baseball industry? the bookstore retail world? a vampire?)
You made Kyu the girl, kind of easy to get along with and see. They, as always, blended almost seamlessly into the loving couple that made this work. oh and they got married!!!!
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Date: 2011-08-07 02:18 am (UTC)...haha. My experiences in fashion consist of watching Project Runway, figuring out which t-shirt fits me in the store (>.>) and...uhhh....admiring Zhou Mi? XD I guess I took a sewing class once, too, and have sewn costumes, but ahem. Yes. /pretending utterly XD XD
Sometimes finding girl!Kyu's personality is hard. She sometimes ends up being too... erm... peppy? XD Somehow I find her again. I bet they had really gorgeous wedding portraits, too. ;A;
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Date: 2011-08-06 09:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-07 02:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-06 12:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-06 12:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-07 02:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-06 09:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-07 02:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-06 10:51 pm (UTC)And I also have to thank you for writing girl!Kyu and doing it so well. It used to not work for me, but I absolutely adore it now and your fics are a big part of the reason for that ♥ I even had a smiling Kyuyoung staring at me from my desktop background as I read this ^^
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Date: 2011-08-07 03:04 am (UTC)It's fun to find her again, cause sometimes she comes out as...not herself. lol But I guess that's the same with any character. It's a fun foray for me. Kyuyoung~~~
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Date: 2011-08-06 11:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-07 03:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-06 11:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-07 03:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-07 12:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-07 03:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-07 02:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-07 03:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-07 02:29 am (UTC)I don't know why but it just is. I think it was absolutely adorable.
<333333
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Date: 2011-08-07 03:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-07 04:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-07 07:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-07 03:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-07 07:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-07 09:22 pm (UTC)I'm in my happy place XD
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Date: 2011-08-08 01:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-08 09:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-09 12:39 am (UTC)also typos tot hank, and i forget the other one. :D;;;
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Date: 2011-08-12 04:38 am (UTC)D: I felt all sad for Eunhyuk and Henry OTL
They married <3
I want my significant other (whenever we find each other orz) to buy me watermelon hahahaahaha and then make him break it open w/ a desk. HAHAHAHAHA
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Date: 2011-09-16 12:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-25 04:30 pm (UTC)how he always hoped to get her as model
and how she was so glad to wear his clothes
so cute >0