Chapter Text
“This is your fault!”
The bright tabloid stares up at him, bold letters far more than enough to know he’s doomed.
CEO and International Celebrity Mew Suppasit Date with Davika!?
“You know I can’t have a scandal right now, but you – you just do – oh my god, Mew, I would strangle you if you were in front of me right now!”
“It’s not my fault someone saw us,” he argues, but it’s meek. “What would you have me do? Pay off the papers?”
“Oh, I’m not stupid, Mew, don’t act like I am. You couldn’t pay enough to make people forget about something this big.”
Big? Oh, definitely. And dangerous.
“You’re such a pain,” he complains, even though it’s just to try and change the subject – it doesn’t work, obviously.
“Just – can’t you figure something out? You’ve been in the industry for ages, you have experience with scandals.”
He rolls his eyes, half at the words and half at himself. Right, he’s the one with scandals, he should be the one to fix this one.
“I know I owe you and all, but I don’t know what you want me to do. I can’t exactly – make everyone think you’re someone else, or say it’s just photoshop. Nobody would believe it. And trying to play it off by showing it up with something isn’t going to work. Maybe if you had a secret twin or something, we could pretend it was a big mix up and I was actually on a date with them, not you, but that’s just bullshit.”
Honestly, he’s just snarking at that point. There’s not much one could do after a picture broke the news to get a scandal out of the way, and even then, it was more picking up the pieces and waylaying a new path through the aftermath. He hates it, but Davika would probably have to deal with that, and he would help as much as he could, but at this point? He couldn’t do anything, not without anything short a miracle.
“I have an idea, actually, Mew”
The tabloid, with that stupid, grainy, overly zoomed-in, pixelated, low-quality picture of him and Davika, only his face visible but Davika’s head in frame, and some of her body, stood in a private hotel’s hallway stares up at him, and he honestly wishes that it was what it looked like – maybe if they were actually having an affair, this would be so much easier to deal with.
“What? A miracle?” Because he knows for a fact she won’t actually give into the scandal and act like she’s dating him to avoid it, so it must be a miracle.
“I know someone who looks just like me. Could be mistaken for my twin, actually.”
A miracle, then.
“What, and they’ll just agree to pretending to be dating me or something?”
“I’ll figure that part out. But you owe me, Mew. You know I can’t deal with this right now. Just this once.”
It weighs on him, those words, because they’re true. He does owe her – and he’s not exactly in a great position to just toss this away anyway. A miracle to save both of their asses from a scandal that would, without a doubt, go viral overnight. The post already had thousands of retweets on Twitter – it was growing every second. His notifications were crazy.
“Fine. Just this once. And then we’re even.”
They can’t let it get further than a grainy picture falsely accusing them of dating. If anyone actually tried to figure out what they were doing…
“Thank you, Mew.”
“Maybe a little more respect on my name next time,” he says, but it lacks the usual teasing that comes so easily normally. “Phi sounds so much better.”
She snorts.
“I’ll text you when I’ve got it figured out.”
The line goes dead.