AN: Regular text means that events are happening in the present, while italic text means that events took place in the past.

—

Seulgi lands in New York five days before New York Fashion Week begins. By the time she's through customs, security, and out of the airport, she's bouncing on the balls of her feet and eagerly taking in the sights and sounds of the New York City hustle life.

"Don't you think you're a bit too excited?" Krystal teases the shorter girl clad in a red plaid button-up, dark skinny jeans, and a maroon woolen beanie— perfect for the cool autumn weather. "You've been to NYC plenty of times for photoshoots."

Seulgi shakes her head. "For one, it’s my first time coming here with friends. Two, I'll never get tired of the atmosphere here! No matter the season, New York City just has this energy, Krys! The kind that courses through the blood and excites you, hypes you up! Can you feel it?"

And to her credit, Krystal shrugs. "I can definitely see what you mean. This city quite literally does not go to sleep."

"It's amazing!" Seulgi enthuses. "I absolutely love NYC, in rain or shine!"

“It’s definitely a fascinating place,” Taeyeon agrees, falling in step with the other two. She throws her head back, let out a short laugh that rises above the city sidewalks. “I’ve had my fair share of episodes from nights in NYC. I came here with family last New Year— Irene was there, actually! What’s the phrase that you kids use these days? It was lit.”

“Please never say that again,” Seulgi says.

“You keep mentioning Irene, and I keep getting jealous,” Krystal complains, flicking her scarf over her shoulder. “Are you two close? The media plays her off as cold, but I think she’s just soft-spoken.”

“She’s definitely on the shy side,” Taeyeon chuckles. “But she’s the warmest person once you get to know her and she lets you in. She’s got this hidden playful side, you see— a lot like you, actually.”

She says the words to Krystal, but Seulgi can’t help but feel like Taeyeon’s follow-up is directed at her.

“You two will get along just great!”

—

Irene gingerly steps down the ladder and out of her private jet with an excited spring to herself. Upon reaching the dark cement of the airport runway, she grins to herself, pulling her sunglasses off and staring out into distance.

New York City.

“The city that never sleeps,” she murmurs to herself with a small smile, basking in the autumn sunlight. She’s been waiting for this day for weeks— even the CEO of a top fashion company has to have something to look forward to. Spreading her arms out wide, she inhales the foreign air.

“You look really happy to be back,” an amused voice says, and Irene chuckles.

“There’s something about this place,” the CEO responds with a shrug, “that just screams and aches innovation. It’s this thrilling feeling that I’ve come to pick up in the atmosphere, Solar. New York Fashion Week definitely has its own ambiance.”

“There’s excitement in the air,” her best friend agrees, her eyes taking in the sights all around her, so different from Seoul. The skyscraper buildings littered with green trees— Central Park. The hustle and bustle can be seen even from the landing zone. Unlike Irene, it’s the first time that Solar’s been to New York City, and Irene’s well aware that her best friend is here to soak up every single moment.

“You’re going to love it,” Irene gushes. “There’s so much to see and do!”

“You’ll definitely want to take a look at Broadway,” and third female voice says, joining her superiors. “That’s definitely the tourist spot to visit. You were in musical theater, right, Miss Kim? Broadway is home to all the musicals.”

“Oh!” Solar’s voice goes up a pitch in her enthusiasm. “That sounds amazing!”

“Can you get us tickets to a musical, Wendy?” Irene asks her personal secretary with a friendly smile.

“I’d love to,” Wendy chirps, happily. “Two tickets—”

“Three, Wendy,” Irene corrects, rolls her eyes gently when Wendy looks genuinely confused. “You’re coming with us too, Seungwan!”

“Oh!” A look of understanding washes over the secretary. She hastily nods. “Right then, if you’re sure, Miss Bae!” She scurries off to make phone calls.

“How long do you think it’ll take for me to crack her and get Wendy to call me ‘Irene’?” Irene asks Solar in actual interest, corner of her lip quirking up slightly.

“It might be a while,” Solar jokes, nudging her friend with her shoulder. “But I’m confident you can do it. You’re CEO Irene Bae, after all!”

—

Irene reclined back in her seat with a satisfied sigh as she stared down at the finished design. Chewing on her bottom lip to hold in a smile (because c’mon, she’s got the whole big, scary CEO reputation to uphold— though, her employees would honest-to-god swear that she’s a softie), she smoothened her thumb over the pencil markings with a keen feeling of relief, careful not to smudge her work. It was still a pencil drawing, but it was the first design that Irene had made in a whole week that she actually felt genuinely satisfied with.

And at that thought, a frown marred her previously pleased expression.

“I’ve been doing that an awful lot,” she muttered under her breath, her thoughts briefly flashing back to designs she’d shown off to the fashion board earlier that day. They’d absolutely adored her ideas, and Irene had to grit her teeth and plaster on a smile as plastic as the awful shiny skirts that were currently “in fashion these days” while her peers sung her the highest of praises.

“I’ve been catering to their favor too much.”

She wracked her brain for the last time she’d actually dared to show them any designs she hadn’t just pulled out of her based on current trends, and Irene couldn’t even remember. She loved her job as the CEO— hell, she was the one who had built Red Velvet from the bottom up, for goodness sake! It was just that these days, her fashion company that was supposed to be a merge between the Red and the Velvet seemed more Red than Velvet.

“So many bright colors these days.” Irene sighed, slouching into her armchair after a quick glance to make sure that no one is around. “I can only imagine what a true eye-sore Seoul Fashion Week will be like this year. I think I might go blind.”

She’d always been more of a fan of minimalism, anyways.

Irene turned to look down at her most recent design, suddenly feeling tired.

“Well, at least this thing is a nice mixture of bo—”

The telltale ding of her phone caught her attention, and the CEO turned to look at the lit-up screen in interest. The corner of quirked as she saw a new message.

Secretary Son: Miss Bae, you’ve been invited to attend New York Fashion Week from the 7th to the 14th.

Irene Bae: Wendy, how many times do I have to tell you to call me “Irene?”

Secretary Son: You haven’t cracked me yet, Miss Bae

Irene Bae: I can see that

Secretary Son: This would be a good opportunity for you to find a new face for the company. Would you like to attend?

Irene Bae: Always straight to business, aren’t you, Seungwan? But yes, I would like to attend. Would you mind clearing my schedule for that week?

Secretary Son: It would be my pleasure, Miss Bae.

Irene Bae: You’re just glad that you can cancel that cross meeting with Mr. Park Jinyoung about sponsoring his idols

Secretary Son: He scares me, Miss Bae.

“Yeah, me too,” Irene breathed aloud, shuddering.

Now, how to survive the next two weeks until the 7th?

—

“You look nervous,” Naeun notes, meeting Seulgi’s eyes in the mirror as she runs the curling iron through Seulgi’s hair yet again. The stylist chuckles when Seulgi shrugs as best as she can’t without ruining Naeun’s work. It’s an endearing sight, she has to admit. Seulgi isn’t the typical model, not having been born and trained. Instead, Seulgi had been a normal citizen who just so happened to have the talent and charisma to capture the heart of the fashion scene. Nevertheless, Seulgi’s less formal tendencies are charming in their own right.

“Probably because I am,” Seulgi jokes, and Naeun laughs. They’re same-age friends, but sometimes, Naeun feels like Seulgi is one of the only things keeping her young.

She wordlessly waves away the intern doing Seulgi’s makeup away when she’s satisfied, who gives Naeun and Seulgi each a quick, nervous nod before stepping back and excusing herself from the room. Seulgi gives the intern – Yves, is her nickname, she thinks? She’s a relatively new addition to the team– a small smile.

“Thank you,” the model says politely. “You did really well.”

Yves bows hastily, her features suddenly brightening at the praise from the top model before hastily making her way out of the room.

“You just made her day,” Naeun notes, a smile quirking at Seulgi’s subsequent beam.

“I’m glad,” she replies enthusiastically, her fingers tapping against her dark skinny jeans of her first outfit. “It calms the nerves, somewhat.”

“You’ve done so many shows, and you’re still nervous?”

Seulgi shrugs. “I can’t really help it. My job is literally just strutting down an overly lavish plank of wood, and yet I still find myself getting jelly-knees whenever I’m about to do my walk.” Her hands move in vaguely circular motions through the air, as though if she gestured enough, Naeun would be able to make sense of her words. “I have this– this reputation, and I feel like I’m supposed to know what I’m doing and why I’m doing it, but I don’t.”

“Sounds like you’re going through a career crisis,” Naeun diagnoses, sympathy pouring into her voice. She’s had more than enough of those crises. The stylist sets down the curling iron on the side, picking up the hairbrush and running it through Seulgi’s sleek, shiny hair, dulling the prominent curls ever-so-slightly.

Seulgi stares at the new look in admiration. She likes it when Naeun does her hair. Because Naeun knows. Naeun makes things natural.

“I don’t know what you’re doing when you model, Kang Seulgi,” Naeun starts, “but I know that you should keep doing whatever it is you’re doing, because you absolutely own that catwalk, and you destroy each and every single one of your photoshoots. And as for why you’re modeling, well…”

Seulgi waits patiently as Naeun pauses before gesturing at the door, where Yves had exited the room just a few minutes prior.

“Don’t you model for the people like Yves?” The stylist voices steadily. “You’re someone’s idol, KangSeul. You make them smile.”

“Are they smiling at Top Model Kang Seulgi?” Seulgi quietly asks. “Or are they smiling at your friendly neighborhood KangSeul?”

“I don’t think either is bad,” Naeun reasons, and her friend slowly nods. “I just think that it’s important for you to learn to distinguish between the two. But I don’t think you need to worry about that right now, Seul. Right now, you need to focus on keeping your cool, because as soon as you step onto that catwalk, the temperature in the room is going to go up a hundred degrees or so.”

—

Kang Seulgi was woken up by the sound of her roommate incessantly pounding on her bedroom door.

She groaned, slamming a pillow over her ears to block out the noise. A full twelve hours of sleep. That’s literally all I ask. Is that too much to—

“Kang Seulgi, get up this instant!”

With another groan, Seulgi pried her heavy eyelids open to stare at her bedside digital clock, its red, unforgiving numbers boring a whole through her skull. “6:00 AM,” it reads.

It really was too early in the morning to be dealing with Jung Soojung.

“Krys!” Seulgi shouted back, and the banging on her door momentarily ceased. “It’s literally 6AM, and we finished our last photoshoot 4 hours ago! Just give me at least another 4 hours and—”

“This can’t wait 4 hours,” Krystal hissed through the closed door, her voice slithering through the cracks, and Seulgi involuntarily shivered in fear. “You left your damn phone on the couch earlier and it keeps on ringing! It’s been at it for the past thirty minutes!” It’s then that Seulgi registered the ceaseless ringtone of her iPhone in the background. “I know that you might be able to sleep through the harshest of hurricanes, but I can’t sleep peacefully with all the racket! Just get out here, pick up the frigging phone, and let me get my beauty sleep!”

“Krys, why don’t you just turn off my phone?!”

“Trust me, I think it’s in your best interest to answer it as soon as possible.”

And that’s how Seulgi found herself trudging out of her room, not even close to being awake. She eyed Krystal, who had chosen to sit on the opposite couch and spectate, suspiciously before picking up her blaring phone and jabbing at the answer button.

“Hello?” As soon as she heard the voice on the other end of the line address her, Seulgi froze. “I— what? Are you serious?”

Five minutes later and Seulgi came off the call looking starstruck. Meanwhile, Krystal’s smirk had only gotten increasingly wider.

“So?” Krystal prodded as Seulgi slipped onto the sofa across from her.

“Well,” Seulgi inhaled, “Your sister called, for starters.”

“And?” Her best friend egged her on.

“And,” Seulgi released a tension-filled exhale. “Jessica asked me to be the centerpiece of her Blanc & Eclare fashion show during New York Fashion Week.”

Krystal beamed. “Okay, that’s what I was looking for!”

“I— is she serious?” Seulgi couldn’t help but ask the younger Jung sibling with wide eyes. “Why would she want me to be the main focus of her fashion show? You’re a model too, Krys, and I’m a short, clumsy idiot who trips over her own feet.”

“Alright, first,” Krystal held up one finger, “You’re not an idiot, you’re a bear. And a pretty damn smart one too. Second, you call yourself short and clumsy, but the moment you step onto that catwalk or get in front of that camera, you’re the epitome of charisma. Third, I was the centerpiece last year. You’re Korea’s newest rising star, Seul! You started modeling part time only two years ago with no training, no prior experience—”

“Because you forced me into accompanying you to a photoshoot, only to discover that I wasn’t just watching from behind the camera.”

“— and then a few months later you’re out there receiving modeling jobs from quite literally all over the world! Tokyo, Seoul, London, New York—”

“There is definitely no need to list all the cities I’ve done modeling in,” Seulgi chuckled breathily, a hand coming up to run itself through her hair. “I hope I do okay. It was thanks to your sister and Blanc & Eclare that I’ve managed to become as fortunate as I am now. I don’t want to disappoint her.”

And this is the part where Seulgi wondered how on earth her best friend had somehow managed to uphold the title of Ice Princess (her sister Jessica reigns supreme as the definitive Ice Queen), because contrary to popular belief, Krystal was one of the most supportive people Seulgi knows. Perhaps it came with being her best friend.

“Seul,” Krystal said seriously, reaching out to place her hands on Seulgi’s shoulders. “You are going to kill it.”

—

Irene fiddles with her phone as Solar makes herself comfortable in the seat beside her. As VIP, they’ve been given front-row seats at the Blanc & Éclair fashion show, and honestly, Irene’s really excited to see how Jessica has done in her line.

They’d gone to college together, after all.

But then there’s the other matter of finding a new face of the company.

She looks down at her phone. Wendy’s over with the other secretaries of other large names, just a mere text or call away, making friends and connections because isn’t that what life is all about? Connections? Knowing Wendy’s she’s making herself busy in any attempt at being helpful. It’s admirable, really. Irene knew that hiring Wendy had been the right decision.

Irene sighs. Though, she almost wishes that Wendy had never brought up the whole “new face” thing.

Solar must’ve heard her, because her close friend nudges Irene just as the lights dim, signifying the start of the show.

“Just remember what I told you before,” Solar says lightly before turning to pay attention to the announcer.

Irene nods, more to herself than Solar. “Right… what you said before…”

—

There’s one day when Solar came in to bug Irene around lunchtime, intentionally making her entrance into her rooftop office as grand and intrusive as humanly possible.

"Honey, I've brought your lunch!" Solar sang in a rather opera-esque fashion as she steps off the elevator, flourishing her right hand through the air dramatically while holding two paper bags with her left. She walked into the room like a runway model, and given her occupation as a fashion designer, she looked the part.

"Why do you feel the need to do this?" the CEO asked as she rose from her seat and took the paper bag Solar held out to her. "And where's Yeri? She usually brings me this kind of stuff."

“Your intern? I’m giving the kid a break,” Solar grinned, perching herself on the edge of Irene’s desk like she owns the very piece of furniture. “Joy was talking about how she wanted to take Yeri out for lunch and it sounded so romantic that I couldn’t help but step in.”

“So you do have a heart!” Irene exclaimed, walking over to her couch and collapsing onto the comfy leather. She smirked up at Solar. “I almost forgot that you actually interacted with people other than me, your design team, and Byul.”

“Excuse you, Joohyun,” Solar scoffed, placing a delicate hand over her chest. To her credit (and Irene’s immense amusement), her best friend has the decency to look almost offended. “I do too have a heart! A big one, in fact.” She winked, and Irene rolled her eyes to oblivion. “And, contrary to popular belief, I do actually talk to people outside of the Mamamoo branch! I’m friends with Wendy, and Joy, and Yeri—”

“Anyone besides the people I’ve introduced you too, you homebody?”

“Oh hush, Joohyun, like you’re any better at leaving your apartment than me. And I have other friends!”

“So, like, Chorong? Doesn’t count. Changsub introduced her to us together.”

“Damn it, Irene.”

Irene only clicked her tongue, mouthing the word bang as she shot Solar with finger guns.

“Okay,” Solar shook her head, as if trying to clear her muddled thoughts. Irene watched on with a chuckle before taking a bite of the sandwich Solar had brought. “Well, besides delivering your lunch, I did have other motives behind this visit— don’t look at me like that! They aren’t bad motives!” Solar plops down onto the other side of the couch, crossing her legs and propping an elbow up on her knee. “So I heard from Wendy that you were invited to New York Fashion Week.”

Irene rose an eyebrow before fishing out her phone and briefly unlocking it to check her notifications. Nope. Wendy hadn’t sent out an email about her absence yet.

“Wendy already told you?”

“No, I literally heard Wendy,” Solar laughed, a hand pushing a stray strand of hair back that had fallen out of place. “She was yelling about it in the break room yesterday, celebrating with Yeri. Something about not having to meet with Park Jinyoung because you’re going to NYC...?”

“That explains a lot,” Irene nodded. “That man is creepy.”

Solar made the act of shivering, scrunching her nose. “No kidding— I’m getting off topic again!” Solar groaned. “I just wanted to tell you to have a good time, and to also take care of yourself—”

“You want to come with me to New York City, don’t you?” Irene deadpanned, only for her facade to be broken a moment later, laughing when Solar’s face lights up light a Christmas tree.

“Could I?” Solar squealed. “I didn’t get to go last year because Byul and I had to visit my grandparents.”

“Sure,” Irene shrugged, smiling good-naturally at her best friend. “I don’t see why not. You’re not the worst person to bring with me on a trip,” she teased and Solar pouted. “But in all seriousness, you could help me pick out a new face for the company.”

“Oh wow, that’s right,” her friend commented. “I remember you talking about how we needed a face during our last board meeting. It’s a good idea to look for them at New York Fashion Week— there will definitely be an abundance of models and celebrities that would be more than willing. This is going to be so much fun!”

“This is also our year to scout the place out,” Irene agreed. “There’s been talk about us holding a showcase next year, during the spring collection, so it would be nice to scope the city.” She frowned slightly, puffing her cheeks out. “The only thing I don’t know is how I’ll choose a face of the company.”

“Well, that shouldn’t be too hard,” Solar commented, and Irene stared at her incredulously. Solar blinked. “How hard can it be? You’re literally the CEO of Red Velvet, Irene. You don’t have to answer to anyone. All you have to do is look for someone whose face and body you think is physically attractive— someone who you think would look good in the clothes that you design. Like, you’re gay as hell, Irene! Just look for your ideal type!”

Irene pulled a face, mulling it over. Solar made it sound so simple, and she supposed that it is. She’s the one who made this very company, so in the end, it’s Irene that called the shots, not anyone else. And her best friend had a point: she’s gay to the moon, around, and back. How hard could it be to find someone whose appearance matched her ideal type?

—

Apparently, very difficult.

“I don’t even have an ideal type,” Irene groaned, talking to the ceiling as she lounged on her couch late one Friday night. She’s got Stranger Things queued up on Netflix in front of her, the TV screen shining bright through her dark apartment, where she had turned off all the lights.

Beside her, her younger sister raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing on her lips.

“What’s up with you, unnie?” Jisoo snickered, wasting no time in pausing the episode, right as the big bad monster finally made its first appearance. “The last time I heard you utter out words even relatively close, you were drunk after having broken up with your last girlfriend.”

“You couldn’t even call her a girlfriend,” Irene quipped, and the two young women share a laugh. “It was more like I paid for her dinner twice before she was suddenly like, so if we get married, I want to have two children, and I have never fled a relationship so fast.”

“I remember that, unnie,” Jisoo giggled. “Wasn’t that the time when you excused yourself to go to the bathroom during the third dinner date and sent Jennie and me a S.O.S message from a toilet stall? We were in the middle of eating a meal with Jen’s family too!”

“Okay, you can’t tell me that you didn’t want to leave,” Irene stated, sending Jisoo into another round of laughter. “I’ve met Jennie’s family, and while I absolutely love her parents, her extended family and their radical conservative viewpoints can go die in a hole. You guys had so much fun with me after I brought you two back here and we drank the night away.”

“True,” Jisoo relented, flashing a toothy grin. “So why were you be your lack of an ideal type?”

And with a sigh, Irene took the time to explain her predicament for the millionth time that week.

“Solar says that I should just look for someone close to my ideal type,” Irene finished, lifting her right shoulder in a half-shrug. “But, I don’t really have an ideal type? I don’t know... I’m not sure if I’ve ever had a particular taste in appearance features in the first place.”

“Yeah, you were never the type of person to say something like I like girls with an accented, indented nose bridge or something,” Jisoo said thoughtfully, edging closer to her older sister on the couch and making herself more comfortable. She nudged Irene with her toe, making the older girl yelp, expression turning playful as she jabbed her sister back.

“An accented, indented nose bridge!” Irene snorted after dodging a couch cushion thrown her way. How completely ridiculous! Absolutely absurd! “How pretentious do you have to be if you have such specific requirements for an ideal type?!”

“I don’t even know!” Jisoo exclaimed between giggles, their laughter rising through the rooftop as she alloeds herself to make a pillow out of Irene’s lap. She gazes up at her older sister, her face suddenly soft— a clear change from the previous hilarity.

“See, unnie?” The younger Bae sibling smiles.

Irene cocked her head, confusion overtaking her expression.

“See what?”

“This is why you’re such an amazing fashion designer,” Jisoo explained dreamily. She’d always been in awe of Irene’s eye for design. Being younger than Irene by a good four years, high school Jisoo had loved watching her older sister draw beautiful patterns and sew together gorgeous pieces of clothing. She’d watched Irene overcome challenge after challenge, from the initial opposition from their parents about pursuing fashion as a career, to the early days of Red Velvet (flash forward five years, and Red Velvet is thriving). Her big sister is nothing short of her idol; her superhero.

“You see something deeper than skin deep,” she continued as Irene listened intently. “You’re a fashion designer, but you’re not focused on something as mundane as pure appearance. You’re an artist, unnie— the type of person to look for the soul beneath the pretty picture. It’s only understandable that you don’t have an ideal appearance, because you search for the people with a story to tell.” Jisoo paused. “At least, those were the people who you went on more than three dates with; I noticed that they tended to last longer.”

For a good twenty seconds, Irene said nothing. She merely fixed Jisoo with a pensive look in her dark brown orbs. Since when had her baby sister gotten so smart?

“I guess this is why you’re the author,” Irene finally said after the period of silence, and they giggle to themselves again. Irene reached over to mess up Jisoo’s hair, and the younger girl squeaked at the sudden act of affection, hastily trying to swat Irene away. “You always know the right thing to say, Jichu. So you’re thinking that I should...?”

“Take Solar’s advice,” Jisoo finished the thought succinctly. “You should look for your ideal type, unnie. Just keep in mind that your ideal type isn’t something physical. Keep your eyes and heart open, unnie. I know you’ll find the perfect person.”

“Why do I feel like we’re not talking about the new face of Red Velvet anymore?” Irene chuckled, almost nervously. She shook her head. Of course Jisoo has some other meaning behind it. Her sister isn’t the average author.

And just expected, Jisoo shrugged, grabbing a bowl of popcorn from the glass coffee table before snatching the remote and hitting play.

“I mean, I’ve told you stranger things before, unnie.”

—

All of the models are beautiful, no doubt about that.

The moment the fashion show had started, Irene had nudged her best friend, and they’d turned their full attention on the beautiful human beings making their way down the catwalk, posing, and strutting back, hips swaying.

Irene pays apt attention to each model. Again, they’re gorgeous. Every single one of them, just a group of models should be. But there’s something off about each stunning individual who passes Irene by with even batting an eyelash.

Eventually, Irene sighs, visibly deflating as her shoulders hunch a little (though not for long, because Irene has somewhat of a reputation to uphold).

“Everyone’s so beautiful,” Irene murmurs to Solar, who bobs her head in empathetic understanding. “But for some reason, none of them feel right.”

“Well, that’s okay,” Solar comforts her friend with a soft pat on the back. “There’s always the other fashion shows that we’re going to be attending, and there was no guarantee that the right ‘next company face’ would show up during the first day of NYFW. Maybe you’ll find someone at the next—”

“Yong, shut up.”

“I’m shutting up.”

And then suddenly, Irene’s not paying attention to anyone other than the stoic beauty making her way down the runway, eyes sharp, head held high, and the smallest smirk – practically invisible – playing on the corner of her lips. She’s chic, but not cold, even with her hands tucked neatly into her trench coat pockets, one heeled foot click-clack stepping in front of the other.

But then she reaches Irene, and the CEO swears that time has suddenly slowed down.

They meet eyes, the model’s sharp, intellectual gaze meeting Irene’s awestruck ones.

And just like that, Irene’s positive that she’s the one.

—

“This is going to be great!” Jessica squealed enthusiastically, and Seulgi eyed her, surprised. “You’re going to be gorgeous, Seulgi!”

“I’m not used to seeing you show this much excitement,” Seulgi commented offhandedly. Behind her, Krystal and Jessica’s girlfriend, Taeyeon, snorted. Jessica glared, pouting, and Seulgi silently thanked Anyone Up There that being best friends with Krystal has its major perks.

Jessica narrowed her eyes at her, though her orbs glinted with a playful sheen.

“Seulgi,” the top designer said warningly, and Seulgi gulped. “Do you think that your fans would like to know that Top Model Kang Seulgi hugs a rabbit plushie to sleep?”

Seulgi let out the meekest eep slip from her lips, hastily shaking her head.

“Good,” Jessica nodded, satisfied.

“That’s kinda hot, babe,” Taeyeon remarked, finally looking up from the video game she’d been playing with Krystal. Jessica winked at her in response.

“Get a room,” Krystal exclaimed exasperatedly, flinging her controller across the couch.

“You’re just mad that Sulli couldn’t join us today,” Seulgi said. She lazily spun around in her armchair, only to freeze a moment later after the air solely around her decreases to sub-zero temperatures. She shuddered. Krystal Jung’s impact.

“So how do you feel about being the only single person out of our friend group?” Krystal asked smoothly, high-fiving Taeyeon.

Seulgi winced. She really should’ve expected that attack, and when she opened to reply, Jessica waggled a testing finger in her face as if to say stop right there.

“And before you even try to mention Naeun, you should know that she’s been flirting with my new male model for the past month.” Jessica clucked her tongue, shaking her head. “My head stylist is literally abusing her job in order to further on her love life! I have to admit that I’m impressed though. For a member of the male specimen, Taemin has serious game, and I approve.” She sighed dramatically. “But I digress. Now you, on the other hand, haven’t even expressed in any of the thousands of girls throwing themselves at you in months!”

Seulgi pursed her lip guiltily, running a hand up to push her bangs back out of habit. “I don’t think they really want me though, if that makes sense? It’s all for the appearance... or for the money. I guess I’m just afraid of stepping into a relationship only to find out that the entire thing is based off of the superficial. I... Out of all the friends that I’ve made since the start of my career, sometimes, I can’t tell if they’re just using me or not. Not since… you know.”

The room turned silent at her admission, and Seulgi let out a deep breath. Truth be told, she’d been frustrated at the lack of romantic development in her narrative as well. It had been a shocking revelation that her love life had, in fact, been much simpler back before she’d become a full-time model. After she’d taken up this career, well… Seulgi’d been taken advantage of once.

Nowadays, Seulgi found herself second-guessing some of the relationships she’d formed since entering the fashion industry. Some people seem genuine, but who could really tell for sure these days? Seulgi sure couldn’t. It made her glad that she’s formed some sort of inner circle with Krystal, Naeun, and even Jessica and Taeyeon.

“Well,” Jessica started after a minute of stale air, and Seulgi was almost startled by the gentleness and understanding in her tone. Then again, if there was anyone who can relate, it’s the high-standing, rich owner of Blanc & Eclare (Seulgi wonders how long it took for Jessica to open up to Taeyeon).

“I definitely can relate to where you’re coming from, Seulgi,” Jessica said, a soft smile upturning as her gaze drifts over to Taeyeon. “But I think I can introduce you to a few great people during New York Fashion Week.”

Seulgi perked up at this. “You can?”

The older woman nodded. “Of course. I’ve had my fair share of friend-filtering, so to speak. There are few people who can relate to me, but when I can relate, I trust them with my life. One particular friend has already confirmed her invitation, actually.”

“Oh! You mean my cousin!” Taeyeon mentioned, grinning. “Yeah, Irene said that she was coming the other day. We promised to meet up and go grab a bite to eat together in NYC.”

“Irene...?” Seulgi inquired, furrowing her brow.

“You mean Irene Bae?” Krystal’s eyes went wide when her older sister nodded in affirmation. “The CEO of Red Velvet? Unnie, you know her?!”

“We were friends in college.” The way Jessica said it so casually was jarring, as though it’s your everyday thing to attend college classes with the future CEO of one of Korea’s current hottest brands. “She and I used to study together in the library. She’s done rather well with herself, hasn’t she, Soojungie?”

“Well of course she has! And I can’t believe you never told m—”

“Are we just going to completely gloss over the fact that Taeyeon referred to her as my cousin?” Seulgi interjected.

More screaming ensued.

—

Irene forces herself out of her temporary stupor as soon as the beautiful model turns around and disappears backstage again. Solar watches with apt interest as Irene gingerly pulls out her phone without another word, unlocking the screen and opening the messenger app.

Irene Bae: Wendy, who was the model in the long coat? The one who just left the stage?

Secretary Son: That’s Kang Seulgi, Miss Bae. According to other assistants whom I have become acquainted with, she’s one of the most sought out models at today’s event.

Secretary Son: Would you like me to find and get in contact with her manager, Mis Bae?

Irene’s response is automatic.

Irene Bae: Yes, immediately.

She pockets her phone again right after Wendy sends confirmation, only to witness a smirking Solar. She stares blankly at her best friend before huffing quietly and looking back at the stream of other models currently walking up and down the catwalk.

Solar chuckles at her friend’s denial, nudging Irene’s shoulder with her own.

“So,” Solar whistles, and Irene groans just as the model - Seulgi - who had caught Irene’s eye comes back out from the back, strutting down the catwalk, eyes fierce, in stilettos, black skinny jeans, and a croptop.

Both girls stare at Seulgi’s form, captivated.

“She’s got abs,” Solar says.

Irene doesn’t even realize she’s nodding until it’s too late and Solar is cackling to herself again. She rolls her eyes and shoves Solar playfully.

“So,” Solar repeats after calming down (and after Irene’s shoved her a few more times). “Is she the one?”

Irene swallows nervously.

“She is.”

—

“Why do I get the feeling that I should’ve known that you’re in some way involved with her,” Irene states after the show is over and Wendy has lead her over to her alleged Next Face’s manager.

“I’m just everywhere, Rene,” Taeyeon says plainly, and Irene doesn’t know whether she should be afraid or not.

“Don’t say anything,” Taeyeon continues, beginning to open the door to what is presumably Seulgi’s dressing room. “The look on your face says it all.”

And oh boy does the look on her face say a thousand words and more, because the sight that greats Irene is unworldly.

Seriously. How on earth does some look so ethereal while barefaced?

Seulgi’s makeup artist grins at Irene as she finishes wiping off the remainder of Seulgi’s foundation. Meanwhile, her model remains seated with her eyes closed.

“You’ve got yourself an admirer, Seul,” the makeup artist – Naeun, as Irene would later learn to call her – snickers, tapping on the model’s shoulder to make her open her eyes. “And I think you’ll definitely want to see this one.”

And Irene’s never been so drawn in before. There’s something about Seulgi’s catlike eyes – is it the shape? Or the color? Or maybe it’s just Seulgi in everything that she is – that draws Irene in, catching her in that whirlpool or emotion, of feeling, trapping her and dragging her underwater but in a way where Irene wouldn’t mind never coming up for breath ever again (in other words, Irene would be content with simply staring into Seulgi’s eyes for the rest of eternity).

And oh, she hates to admit it, she really does, but even Irene can’t deny the attraction there. This Seulgi character is fascinating and mysterious and goodness, she really is the One— the one as in the next face of Red Velvet, and totally not Irene’s missing sense of inspiration. Nope. Not at all.

(Not yet.)

—

Seulgi stutters out a, “H-hello,” and Irene swoons. The gap is there, and it’s very real, and Seulgi’s not all mystery and charisma but Irene just dragged further under. There’s charm where Irene’s never felt it before.

Yeah, Seulgi’s still the One— in a completely work and business related sense, of course.

(There’s more.)

—

Seulgi doesn’t live under a rock (as much as Krystal would love to argue otherwise). She’s basically heard legends of the goddess-level visuals of Irene Bae. So yeah. Kang Seulgi knew that Irene was beautiful, but nothing could have prepared for for just how beautiful. The legends have nothing on the beauty of the dignified, yet soft CEO standing in front of her, gazing at Seulgi with the most feather-light of smiles gracing her perfect red lips.

She’s utterly dumbstruck. Hell, she doesn’t even recognize the way that is slightly agape.

And Seulgi’s supposed to be the model here? She’d like to argue otherwise, maybe even beg Miss Bae to take her place— surely there’s no one more suited to be admired than Irene Bae.

Naeun snickers at the obvious tension in the room between the two newcomers, the air so thick one could cut it with a knife.

The stylist chuckles once more to herself, catching Taeyeon’s eye from over Irene’s shoulder and flashing a quick thumbs up. She places down the hairbrush she’d been using just a mere thirty second prior before patting Seulgi encouragingly on the shoulder, effectively snapping the top model out of her momentary daze.

“Good luck,” she whispers to her friend, and Seulgi blinks, not quite comprehending. Then her face flushes bright red, and Naeun knows she understood.

Seulgi briefly acknowledges how Taeyeon and Naeun were far too eager to leave her and Irene alone.

And wait.

She and Irene are alone. In her changing room.

Seulgi swears she’s one second away from having a mental breakdown. She’s trapped in a small, confined space with a goddess. What the hell is she supposed to—

But then, it’s Irene’s laugh — like the harmonious sound of chiming bells — that grounds her; she’s being pulled back to reality only to want to melt into the ground.

“They sure were eager,” Irene comments, her tone husky in amusement, and Seulgi has to resist the urge to swoon.

Though, she prides herself in her ability to keep her voice steady, even sounding a bit smooth herself.

“They were,” Seulgi agrees, and maybe it’s a trick of the light, but perhaps Irene’s eyes lit up at the sound of Seulgi’s own voice too. She wills the courage to meet Irene’s mirthful stare, quirking her lips up in the way she knows her fans like— she’s really just grasping for any leverage here.

“Did you enjoy the show?”

“I did,” Irene replies, her eyes crinkling and oh, she’s adorable. “Jessica really has done well with herself. I’ll have to congratulate her again.”

“I mean, you’ve been having a pretty good year yourself, Miss Bae,” Seulgi says, keeping her tone light, and much to her complete delight, Irene giggles.

“I believe so too, Miss Kang,” Irene says, biting her lip. Seulgi’s heart flutters at the sound of her last name. The only thing better would be...

“I’m Seulgi, Miss Bae,” Seulgi breathes out, stomach flip-flopping. Why am I acting like this?

“And I’m Irene, Seulgi,” Irene says in return, her small smile growing large, more radiant in brightness. If someone had told Seulgi that Irene put the heavens up in its rightful place, Seulgi would’ve believed them.

And Irene really doesn’t miss a beat.

“You’re beautiful,” Irene says, something shining in her eyes that makes Seulgi think that’s there more to it than just that. She’s heard people say that before, had people call her beautiful. But there’s something about the way that Irene says it, probably the twinkle in her brown doe eyes, so alive and curious and trusting that makes Seulgi want to believe that there’s more.

Oh, Seulgi’s never hoped for a more so hard in her life.

“Seulgi,” Irene starts slowly, and Seulgi can virtually see the gears churning in Irene’s brain. Could it be that the CEO is thinking through her next words carefully as well? Is she as nervous as Seulgi?

“Do you consider yourself an artist, Seulgi?” She asks, and Seulgi takes it as a sign.

Had it been anyone else – say, another model or a member of the press – Seulgi would’ve said no. Stay humble, she’d been told. Modesty is the key to survival in this industry. It is the designers who are the true artists, Seulgi could say, do a bit of pandering for herself. Yet Irene’s open gaze and open heart compel her to say otherwise.

“I very much am, Irene,” Seulgi says steadily. Irene’s pleased expression greets her, and she knows she made the right choice. “I am an artist who gets to express my feelings through my body and the way I present myself. And I am as much an easel as I am a paintbrush.”

“Well...”

Then Seulgi’s looking up at Irene’s outstretched hand with wide eyes.

“Would you allow me to get to know you better, Seulgi?” Irene asks (she hopes that Seulgi doesn’t pick up on the slightest of trembles in her voice— Irene Bae doesn’t get nervous... or does she?) “Both you and your art? I think... I think that Red Velvet would be the perfect place for you.” Next to me.

Seulgi hears the unspoken words loud and clear— there have been other companies, other CEOs before Irene. But they’re not Irene. They haven’t managed to capture Seulgi’s interest during night-long dinner parties the same way Irene has in a five minute conversation.

Seulgi’s not an impulsive person— she likes thinking things through. She’s learned to be wary yet rational, to not trust people so easily. Seulgi’s never met Irene Bae before; never modeled for Red Velvet, never came into contact with Red Velvet. And yet. And yet. Here she is, wanting nothing more than to take Irene’s outstretched hand that screamed, I don’t know you, but I want to get to know you, if you’ll just let me.

So she does.

Irene is beaming at her with a smile so bright that is rivals the sun, setting Seulgi’s thumping heart aflame with its sheer glow alone.

“I’ll do it.”

—

And then for some reason that Irene really can’t fathom but at the same time really doesn’t mind in the slightest, suddenly they’re meeting every day.

Irene knows that she’s made a promise to get to know Seulgi better. On one hand, there are definitely businessmen who’ve used that tactic of making people feel special before to get the advantage— Irene remembers this from her senior year psychology class. It’s an effective strategy when implemented properly, and Irene’s pretty sure that she just used it in the best way possible—

—if only she could say that with confidence and not like a half-hearted excuse.

No, the reality is that Irene’s made a promise to Seulgi, and she plans on keeping it all the way through, no matter the cost (please understand that the cost is actually quite high— especially since the cost is potential scandal and accusations of the sort. Irene usually doesn’t take too many chances but for some reason, Seulgi makes her want to be a bit braver.)

So that’s how Seulgi ends up being Irene’s date to the Victoria’s Secret fashion show a few days later, after two days of communicating via text.

“Some of these garbs are just ridiculous,” Irene says, gawking at a female model strutting down the runway in nothing but lingerie and a headset and tail-contraption of feathers. She scrunches her nose as the model walks past her and Seulgi’s front-row seats, leaving fluttering emerald feathers falling to the ground in her wake. “I mean, absolutely none of these are practical!”

“I don’t know, Irene,” Seulgi says jokingly. “I’m not quite sure about you, but I’d totally be down for walking around New York looking like an enraged male peacock.”

Irene snorts behind a hand, trying to keep her snickers under wraps.

“Would you ever model for Victoria’s Secret?” Irene asks, out of plain curiosity.

“I think I would,” Seulgi replies. She shrugs haphazardly, a lazy smile working its way across her features. “I mean, what harm would it be? I’d get the Victoria’s Angel label, and I’m sure if I can handle the embarrassment of flaunting those outfits while half-, I can do virtually anything afterwards.”

“That’s a good mentality,” Irene compliments, and Seulgi beams.

They spend the rest of the day at one of the top-floor lounges at their five-star hotel (coincidentally or not, they both checked into the same place), where Irene introduces her coworkers to Seulgi’s party of friends. There’s a lot of inside jokes thrown around between Irene and Jessica, and Krystal pouts when she realizes that her sister hadn’t been lying about being close to the Red Velvet CEO in college.

However, the next day is full of adventure. The single Calvin Klein fashion showcase they’ve been invited to is scheduled in the morning, meaning that they’ve got the rest of the day to explore New York City to their hearts content.

After a quick goodbye to their friends, Irene whisks Seulgi away without any extra words exchanged.

“How many times have you been to NYC?” Irene queries as they stroll down a busy street, admiring the view and the excited expression on Seulgi’s face. The younger girl simply fits the scenery with her plaid button-up and leather boots— Irene’s quite proud, actually, having picked out Seulgi’s wardrobe herself with permission from Naeun.

“I’ve been a decent amount,” Seulgi says, cocking her head thoughtfully. “Though I never really got the chance to explore. I just was driven around to the photoshoot locations and that was that.”

“Perfect,” is all Irene says, smoothly taking Seulgi’s hand and tugging her to one of the staircases leading to the New York City subway. She smirks at Seulgi through the bustling crowd, and Seulgi watches her in wonder. “We’re going to travel classic then. Get ready for some walking, Seul. I’m going to show you some of the sights.”

—

“Our first stop is the Empire State Building, the tallest building in the city! See that big antennae up there? There’s a bunch of television broadcasting stations up there.”

“Whoa, it’s so tall! I wonder what it would be like to stand at the top of it.”

“Want to find out? Let me just make a call.”

“Don’t tell me you have connections!”

“Of course I do! It’s good to have connections.”

—

“Up next we’ve got Rockefeller Center! There’s even more TV broadcasting stations here.”

“So many broadcasting stations.” A laugh.

“Yeah, broadcast is such a big industry! I have a number of friends who ended up working around here.”

“That’s really cool, Irene!”

“You know what’s cooler? In the wintertime, there’s a really big ice skating rink that gets set up here at Rockefeller. I went skating there with Taeyeon a few years ago.”

“Oh gosh, I would’ve loved to see that.”

“No you wouldn’t.” A scrunched nose. “I’m awful at ice skating.”

“I’m sure you’re not that bad. I’d still love to see it though.”

“Maybe back in Korea.”

“Great! So it’s a date.”

“…You’re awfully smooth, you know that?”

“I take pride in my usually-nonexistent flirting skills.”

—

“This is Time Square! Probably the place that calls for the biggest crowds— it’s a must-see tourist spot. Especially during the New Year, with the countdown to the ball drop.”

“Wow. Have you ever gone to the ball drop?”

“Oh yeah, definitely. It’s a once in a lifetime experience. Literally. I would never do that again.” Shudder. “The crowds are scary.”

“What if I asked you to come see the ball drop with me? Would you bear the crowds with me?”

“I think I would, actually. I’d fight those crowds tooth and nail for you.”

—

“How do you know so much about New York City?” Seulgi asks as they lounge on the lush grass of Central Park, crisscross-applesauce. She balances her half-eaten hamburger on her knee, reaching over to take a sip of her soda as Irene finishes chewing. “Surely all of your knowledge isn’t just from a few Google searches.”

“You’d be surprised,” Irene teases, leaning in to swipe some stray mustard that Seulgi hadn’t noticed. “I’m a very good Googler.”

Seulgi laughs, the sound ringing clear like bells through Central Park and rising up, up, up to the sky. “Oh really now?”

Irene nods earnestly before chuckling and shaking her head.

“I went to school here,” she says instead, motioning to the concrete jungle surrounding them. In the distance, a car honks its horn while stuck in traffic, and a pedestrian marvels in awe at the sight of the Statue of Liberty as the sun begins to set, “in New York City. Jessica and I both attended, actually, although she was two years above me. We both had double majors in both business and design, so it was a bit obvious that we were ambitious from the beginning. But that also meant that we saw each other a lot, and we became very good friends. We explored the whole city together— it was an adventure!”

“Wow,” Seulgi marvels, giving Irene a once over. It’s an interesting image, really, of someone who physically looks so delicate like Irene, braving the business and ruthlessness of New York City. “That definitely sounds like an adventure.”

“Well,” Irene tilts her head, looking out at the distant buildings surrounding the large park, “There’s this feeling you get after you’ve conquered this place, you know? I mean, I survived the concrete jungle. What’s that song? If I can make it here, I can make it anywhere?”

“‘Empire State of Mind,’” Seulgi smiles fondly at the shorter woman. “The one with Alicia Keys and Jay-Z. I used to love singing along with Alicia Keys.”

“What a coincidence,” Irene eyes her playfully. “I had all of Jay-Z’s rap verses memorized at some point.” She shifts, resting her chin on the palm of her hand. “So where did you grow up, Seulgi?”

“I’m a Seoul kid, through and through,” Seulgi replies before flopping onto her back in the grass. She looks up at the sky, the orange-red sunset fading into a dark blue night. “I hardly know anything but Seoul. Even all of my extended family live there, scattered throughout the city. I probably know every nook and cranny of that place, I’ve explored so much.”

“You should show me around sometime,” Irene says, lying down on the grass right next to Seulgi. “I’m a Daegu girl. Right after university, I came to Seoul to work on my start-up company. It had been a constant stream of work at the time.”

“Oh that’s right! You built Red Velvet from the bottom-up.”

Irene nods, shrugs sheepishly. “But even now, when the company is thriving years later, I still haven’t taken the time to really see the city.”

“Then I’ll show you around,” Seulgi vows, spreading her arms out wide. “Completely outside of work. I’ll return the favor and I’ll show you the best that Seoul has to offer.”

Irene’s eyes crinkle into perfect crescents, touching Seulgi’s hand lightly.

“It’s a date, then.”

—

A week passes, and Irene’s back in Seoul, sitting behind her desk and silently penciling designs when Joy, one of Irene’s new stylists (who’d somehow wormed her way into Irene’s heart) aptly knocks on her door, knock, knock, knock.

“Irene!” Joy singsongs.

“What do you want, Sooyoung?” Irene tacks on the exasperated tone she often uses with the red-headed designer.

“You have a guest! I met her in the lobby and asked for her signature!” There’s muffled laughter from behind the doorway. Irene distinctly has flashbacks to a certain laughter that had dominated her New York trip.

And then Irene’s bolting up from her seat, excitement shimmering in her brown orbs, and she mentally does a little jig out of happiness when Kang Seulgi pokes her head into Irene’s office with a wave.

“Seul!” The CEO exclaims, bolting towards the younger woman to envelop her in a hug. “You’re back!”

“I am!” Laughter bubbles from Seulgi’s chest, filling the room with light to its brim. Irene feels something explode in her chest, refreshing and bright.

Seulgi had stayed in New York City for another five days for a photoshoot, but the model had been present during Irene’s send-off at the airport. Those five extra days had been fun, but it couldn’t compare to her time spent with Irene.

“Did you have a good time?”

“I did!” Seulgi says. “I went to that cheesecake place you recommended with Krystal and Naeun! We should go together some time, Rene.”

As Irene nods enthusiastically, Joy chuckles quietly to herself before leaving the newly reunited duo to themselves. (But not before noting how she’d never seen Irene smile so brightly in her office before— she’s definitely telling Yeri about this development).

A good hour later, after they’ve caught up with everything that had occurred during their five days of separation, Seulgi taps Irene’s head in a scolding manner after the CEO admits that she forgot to each lunch earlier.

“When do you get off?” Seulgi asks— more like demands.

Irene chances a glance towards the clock, just barely muffling a groan when she realizes that there’s still quite some time until her usual work hours end. Yes, she’s the CEO, and yes, she can technically make her own hours, but it’s a personal gain type of thing.

“I mean,” Irene bites her lip. “I could leave, but usually I don’t leave until at least 8 o’clock, which is still a good two hours from now...”

“That’s cool,” Seulgi says with a wave of her hand. “I’ll just wait around then.”

“You could leave and come back...?” Irene voices the idea hesitantly, not wanting Seulgi to leave so soon. Thankfully, Seulgi seems to pick up her mood, shaking her head and decidedly saying that she’s going to stay and wait.

That’s when an idea hits.

“Seul, do you play video games?” Irene questions right as Seulgi’s just taken out her phone to occupy herself.

“Oh totally!” Seulgi’s more than eager.

Gesturing to the far right wall of her office, Irene silently points to the flatscreen TV with a small, thin black and red perched on the television stand resting against the wall.

Seulgi gasps. “Is that a Nintendo Switch?! Oh my god, Irene!”

“It’s there for the long nights where I have to wait for oversea respondents,” Irene explains with a giggle. “And for days of pure boredom when none of the ideas are hitting.”

“Oh man, I don’t have a Switch yet... I’d been meaning to get one but I’ve been so busy lately that it had slipped my mind! Do you have Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild?”

“You mean one of the best games of all time? How could I not!”

“Irene, I think you’re at the top of my list of favorite human beings.”

“I’m absolutely honored, Seul.”

—

They eat dinner at Seulgi’s favorite seafood restaurant, where Irene rolls her eyes good-naturedly when Seulgi pushes all of her vegetables to one side of her plate before telling the model that she’s willing to eat all of Seulgi’s greens save for the asparagus. Seulgi swallows the asparagus down in a heartbeat before hastily depositing the rest of the vegetables in front of Irene.

“How are you so skinny when you avoid anything green like the plague?” Irene demands as Seulgi takes a big bite of her salmon with a delectable hum.

“Good question,” is all Seulgi says, eyes wide and honest, looking so adorable that Irene almost wants to cave and drop her nagging.

(She doesn’t, though, and a good fifteen minutes are spent forming a list on what vegetables Seulgi can tolerate and which she downright hates. In the end, Seulgi pays the bill against Irene’s protests with a wink and a “this is a thank you for eating my vegetables, and a promise that I’ll try a bit harder.”)

—

“How did you find this place?” Irene gasps as she sets foot in the lantern-lit garden, shouldering her bag in awe. She hops a few paces forward, spinning on her heel in an attempt at taking the whole scene in at once before whirling back to look at Seulgi. “This place is amazing!”

“Pretty nice, right?” The model says breathlessly, a little too stunned at her companion’s appearance. It’s hard to forget that Irene is essentially a goddess. “I found it after a… particularly hard night. I was alone for the first time in a while and I needed to clear my head. It was… just the thing I needed. No one really comes to this part of Seoul’s outskirts. But the elderly couple who maintains this place are kind, and they allow me to come here whenever I want.”

“So you have connections too,” Irene teases lightly, and Seulgi laughs.

“Something like that.”

Irene pauses, looking at Seulgi thoughtfully for a moment before rummaging through her bag. A second later, she pulls out a professional digital camera, wiggling it.

“Would they mind if I took pictures?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Would you mind if I took pictures?” Irene gauges Seulgi’s surprised reaction steadily. “Pictures of you?”

“I –” Seulgi shakes her head, expression soft. “I don’t mind at all.”

“Perfect,” Irene whispers, not really talking about Seulgi’s decision (more about the way the light reflects off of Seulgi’s dark hair, the way the wind has tussled it just the perfect amount, how her cheeks are tinted red and her eyes are dark yet glimmering, all at once).

—

The drive back to Irene’s apartment is a quiet, comfortable affair. Seulgi puts on the radio and Mike Perry’s “The Ocean” plays throughout the space, filling up and out. She listens to Irene quietly sings, wants to hear more.

You can be my guiding light

Keep me company in the night

That's all I need, all I want

Is for you to stay a little longer now

With arms around me, like a border

All too soon, they’re at Irene’s building and Seulgi’s accompanying the older woman up to her room. And they’re standing on the welcome mat in front when Irene produces a key from her pocket, turns the lock, looks back at Seulgi before biting her lip shyly.

“Thank you,” Irene murmurs, mumbles, something in between. She looks at her feet, the welcome mat beneath her suddenly very interesting. It registers that Jisoo’s probably inside waiting to hear every detail, and now she’s just stalling, and—

There’s this fluttering, feathering feeling on her cheek, and what is that?

Oh.

Oh.

Seulgi just kissed her.

“It was my pleasure,” the model whispers into her ear, and Irene feels the shivers rippling down her spine. “Goodnight, Irene.”

And just like that, Seulgi’s gone, having disappeared into the night.

And Irene is very, very much awake.

Although it doesn’t really hit her until she’s in her apartment (she doesn’t remember pushing the door open, nor does she remember closing it), seated behind the closed door, cradling her right cheek tenderly and wondering what just happened.

“Oh my god,” she whispers, her face warming.

“Unnie?” Jisoo pokes her head into the hallway from the living room. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just give me a second.”

Jisoo gives her a weird look. “Are you sure?”

“Trust me, Jichu, I’m actually over the moon. It’s just taking me a minute to process it.”

Understanding washes over her younger sister’s face in waves. “Ah, okay, unnie. By the way, Jennie is here. Is it okay if she stays the night?”

Irene nods dumbly. She’s never had a problem with Jennie before; Jennie’s a good kid.

“Sure thing, Jichu.”

“Thank you, Irene-unnie!” Jennie’s voice can be heard from the living room, out of sight. They must have been watching a movie, Irene realizes.

And the eldest Bae child just nods again, silently excuses herself to her bedroom, and pulls up her chair to her desk. She pulls out her camera, shuffles around the depths of her bag for a USB cable, and plugs it into her laptop.

Pictures flood the computer screen as Irene piles sketchbook after sketchbook onto her desk. She has a funny inkling that she’s going to need a lot of paper.

She pulls out her mechanical pencil, 0.5 lead, of course, and checks the time. “11:47 PM,” the digital clock on her bedside table says in its red numbering. Perfect.

—

“Krys.”

“Seul.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

Krystal rolls her eyes at her friend’s dramatics. “Well, judging from your overreaction, your date with Irene definitely went well. So I don’t what you’re so up in arms about.”

“That’s the thing,” Seulgi groans, hands coming up to tangle in her own hair out of frustration. “I don’t know either. Oh, Krys, she’s perfect! Irene, she – she makes me feel things that I never thought that I would feel ever again. Not since Eunae, Krystal.”

“But Irene isn’t Eunae!” Krystal exclaims, abruptly rising to her feet to meet Seulgi on eye level.

“But she's perfect in her own way,” Seulgi shouts in exasperation, feeling familiar hot tears brim in her eyes. “Just like Eunae. Her father told her to date me, Krystal. He wanted the money.”

“You know that Eunae broke up with you to protect you,” Krystal shoots back. “Eunae really did love you, Seul. But she didn’t want to take advantage of you, so she left you to keep you safe. Her father was a bankrupt, evil man and Eunae deserves better to this day.”

“She might have come to love me, but she still came for the money at first. And in the end, we still drove each other away,” Seulgi moans helplessly, head lolling in despair. “But Krys, this thing with Irene is worse. It’s addictive. I wanted to kiss her, Krys! It was never this hard with Eunae!”

“That only means that you love her, Seulgi!” Krystal yells, flinging her arms out to grip at the other model’s shoulders, and Seulgi freezes. “I don’t get it,” Krystal says breathlessly. “I don’t get it at all. Why… why are you trying to stop yourself from experiencing the wide array of human emotion? Seulgi, you love her. You’ve loved her from the start. Why can’t that be enough?”

And it hits Seulgi like a pile of bricks. There’s really nothing stopping her, no pressing parents, no need for money, there’s nothing.

Nothing but love.

Perhaps it’s enough.

—

The digital clock says “6:23 AM” when Irene groggily calls Wendy and says that she’s feeling extremely tired after pulling an all-nighter of nothing but designing.

Wendy says that she understand, says that Irene shouldn’t feel guilty whatsoever (mentions that it’s the first “sick day” that Irene’s taken in 2 whole years), says that she’ll text Seulgi and tell the model the reason why Irene won’t be answering her texts in advance because even Wendy knows that Seulgi is going to freak the out when she realizes that Irene’s not at work.

Irene thanks her and passes out from exhaustion on her plush bed.

—

Irene wakes up to the smell of chicken soup, and there’s no way that Jisoo actually cooked, right?

Of course not.

It’s Seulgi’s warm gaze that meets Irene’s bleary vision, and she blinks once, twice, three times just to make sure she’s not hallucinating.

“Wendy said that you were tired,” Seulgi says, kindly, like there’s nothing out of the ordinary, and Irene’s grateful (For now). “I figured that you missed breakfast, maybe even lunch, so I picked up some soup from that café that you said you liked.”

“Thank you, Seul,” Irene says gratefully, and Seulgi beams that beautiful smile of hers that Irene will never get tired of.

“Anything for you,” Seulgi replies, and Irene’s heart twitches.

(Okay, so maybe there’s something out of the ordinary.)

—

And so it continues like this, and they’re happy.

Irene draws more, designs more, and oversees the whole process to make sure that everything is perfect.

Seulgi models more, hangs around Irene more, and becomes more and more biased towards anything Red Velvet-related.

(No one’s really complaining though. Even the media have started to catch onto their dates with increasing frequency, noting their bright smiles with headlines about how Irene’s “Icy Shell is Melting,” whatever that means).

(Seulgi’s just thankful for Irene).

—

It’s a whole three weeks later when Irene finally eagerly tugs Seulgi into Red Velvet’s display room, littered with the most beautiful and conventional garb that Seulgi’s ever seen in her life.

The model makes her way around the room slowly, Irene hovering around her nervously but proud all at once. She’d done it. She’d been more than ready for Seoul Fashion Week in ample time.

“These are so beautiful,” Seulgi says in amazement, meeting Irene’s pleased expression with her own satisfied one. She giggles slightly at the sight of one of the more modern pieces of streetwear— an oversized sweater that had the words I’ll eat your vegetables for you, I guess stylized on it. “All of these were designed by you, right, Hyun?”

(Ah, Irene had let her real name, Joohyun, slip one day. Seulgi had grabbed onto the title of endearment tight and refused to let go).

“All of them,” Irene breathes, reaching out to run her hand over of her flowery dresses decorated with beautiful lantern-flowers. She slowly returns Seulgi’s gaze with a small smile. “All thanks to you, Seulgi.”

“Me?”

Irene nods, gesturing to all the dresses, shirts, pants around them. “A good number of these were designed after that first date, Seul. The rest of them came from each subsequent outing.”

“So that’s why you’d be so tired afterwards,” Seulgi notes. Then she pauses. “Wait, that doesn’t sound right out of context.”

And Irene bursts into laughter, clear and bright, swirling and flying, and yeah, Seulgi in love.

“I’m in so deep,” Seulgi exhales with a chuckle as Irene’s chiming laugh dies down. She wraps an arm around Irene’s waist, pulling the smaller girl closer.

“So, so deep.”

“If it makes you feel better,” Irene tucks her head under Seulgi’s chin, and the taller girl sways them on their feet, dancing to nonexistent music, dancing to the rhythms of their hearts. “I’m in pretty deep too. Maybe even deeper. Because, y’know, I’m pretty short.”

“With arms around me like a border,” Seulgi sings quietly. “I can get used to this.”

Irene hits her stomach without any force at all.

“I’m starting to regret telling Joy that I’d be your personal stylist during Seoul Fashion Week now,” Irene mentions absentmindedly, and Seulgi’s eyes go wide.

“Wait, you’re going to be my stylist? You can do that?”

“Of course! I’m the CEO. I make the rules.” Irene nods, her hair tickling Seulgi’s skin. “I was going to tell you earlier today but it slipped my mind when I brought you up here. But I have regrets now.”

“Why would you regret being my personal stylist?” Seulgi’s genuinely curious.

“Because now all I’ll want to do is hug you like this,” Irene mumbles into Seulgi’s neck before an idea hits and she plants a kiss there. Seulgi jolts like she’s been electrified. “Or other things.”

“I’m not stopping you,” Seulgi says, her voice strained like she’s been winded in the best way. Irene smirks to herself. “You’re the CEO, Miss Bae. You make your own rules.”

—

During the two weeks leading up to her trip, Irene found that she’d slipped into something cyclical.

She ran the company, keeps it functioning like finely-tuned clockwork, makes the decisions that seem to be the most public friendly, chooses the designs that she thinks the nation will instantly fall for, and repeat. If anyone thought that something was wrong, they didn’t say it— probably because Irene had just gotten way too good at plastering various expressions ranging from deadpan to cold to strained smiles based on which client she’d been dealing with.

The day before she’d been scheduled to leave, her intern, Yeri, slipped into her office with the morning coffee, smiling far too brightly at this ungodly hour at the CEO.

“Here you go, boss,” Yeri chirped , and Irene accepts the steaming cup gratefully with a thank you. “No problem. I know you hate mornings.”

“And usually you do too,” Irene said over the top of the mug, a sly smirk forcing the upturn of her lips. “What’s gotten into you, Kim Yerim?”

“Are you sure I can’t go with you?” Yeri asked, immediately cutting to the chase. She huffed at Irene’s light laugh, crossing her arms like a child denied their candy. “But Wendy gets to go with you.”

“Wendy’s a legal adult,” Irene gently reminded the pouting twenty-year-old. “Trust me Yeri, I’d love to bring all of my employees if I could.”

“I guess...” Yeri trailed off, still looking visibly disappointed. However, she brightened up at the sight of the large pieces of paper littering Irene’s usually neat and tidy desk.

“Are those new designs?”

Irene nodded. “They are.”

“Can I see them?” Yeri begged, clasping her hands together eagerly. Usually, Irene’s designs were kept top secret until she decides to reveal them at the weekly staff meetings - which just so happened to be later that day - but regardless, Yeri wanted to marvel them up close. “Please? Since you can’t bring me with you to New York?”

(She asks as though Irene had been sincerely considering allowing her to tag along, and Irene has to fight back an amused smile.)

“I don’t see why not,” she replied, because really, why not indulge Yeri every once in a while? It kept her intern on her toes, striving to do better. She motioned for Yeri to come stand next to her, and the current college student had to subdue the urge to skip her way over.

“These are really nice,” Yeri complimented, having taken the time to truly appreciate Irene’s work. “The public will love them, Miss Bae.”

“They will,” Irene sighed, and Yeri worriedly looked at her boss.

“Are you alright, Miss Bae?”

“I am. It’s just that I feel like I’m dwindling; like I’m at the end of my spool of thread, design-wise.”

Yeri nodded quietly.

“I hope you find your muse in New York, Miss Bae,” the intern said earnestly. “Perhaps some time away from South Korea’s fashion scene will do the trick? I’d definitely be looking forward towards all the different styles.”

“That’s a good idea, Yeri,” Irene said, a thoughtful finger now resting on her chin. “I hope that I find my muse in New York as well.”

—

“Yeri had been right,” Irene says considerately as she and Seulgi lounge on her couch late one night, glasses of wine in their hands. Across from them, on the other couch sit Jisoo and Jennie, casually sipping from their own glasses. “I really did find my muse in New York.”

“You’re quite the flatterer,” Seulgi teases, poking Irene’s stomach, causing the older girl to yelp.

It was the final day of Seoul Fashion Week, and after the final dinner party full of higher-ups and industry seniors, Seulgi had driven her and her girlfriend home to enjoy some drinks with Jisoo and Jennie.

“Only when I’m drunk,” Irene says.

“Must be a Bae thing,” Jennie comments when she and Seulgi share a knowing look. “Jisoo says that line a lot too.”

“Don’t rat me out,” Jisoo pouts, cuddling further into Jennie before eyeing her sister. “I say cute things to you all the time, Jen.”

“They’re gonna be happy together for a long time,” Seulgi mumbles into Irene’s ear as the younger-aged couple continue to bicker. “I just have a feeling.”

“What about us?” Irene says teasingly. “How much faith do you have in us?”

“I’d place all my bets,” Seulgi says honestly.

And that's when Irene surges forward and tugs Seulgi into a hard kiss.

End.