Work Text:
"Mr. Choi! Look over here!"
"What are you wearing?"
"Look over to your right!"
"Do you have a date for tonight’ s event?"
" Scoups, to your left!"
“Nice watch!”
"Was there someone you most wanted to meet at the Met Gala?"
Ah there! The question that stilled him mid-pose in front of the flashing lights from hundred lenses—not that he also stopped looking like a Greek God etched beyond the lines of time. Eh kahit yata tumayo lang s’ya sa gitna ng maraming tao wearing the most wornout suit, he would still outshine the stars in their finest threads. Wala eh! Face card, face bank, face economy. Having that grace and regal look? That’s already the fit. Malamang, Choi Seungcheol na ‘yan eh!
So with brows arched high like strokes of a renaissance artist’s hand,
And dimples carved as deep as the Pacific Ocean,
A smirk played soft on lips of cherry hue .
He leaned in close to the camera, and with a breath, he flew...
"Yoon Jeonghan."
✨✨✨
"Nakakainis! Nakakainis! Ang yabang talaga ng Choi Seungcheol na ‘yan! Akala mo talaga gwa—"
"Oops, stop! Gwapo talaga s’ya! Tangina nakita mo ‘yung kilay bago banggitin ang pangalan mo? Napa-standing ovulation ako, mowm." Sabat ni Minghao habang nakatingin sa reflection nilang dalawa sa harap ng salamin, sa loob ng hotel kung saan sila inayusan. Napasimangot na lamang ang nauna at hinagis ang cellphone nito kung saan sila nanonood ng live ng naturang event.
Labag man sa kalooban, mahirap man aminin, totoo ngang nag-ovula—HUY! Wala sa branding ‘yan bading. Though medyo, emphasis on the word ‘medyo’, gwapo nga ito.
With his silver hair matching his ring and watch from Piaget costing a fortune, na para bang walking catalogue ng mamahaling accessories, paired with a modern jeogori-inspired suit that blended old soul with new age flair. He looked like a walking paradox, a prince pulled out of a legend. He wasn’t just wearing fashion. HE IS the fashion.
His thick eyebrows and lashes na effortless sa binata, na ang unfair-unfair lang kasi libo ang nagagastos n’ya to achieve such features, sana all! And behind those thick eyelashes are his eyes that has the kind of unexplainable depth. Soft yet burning, dangerous in the gentlest way. Na pribilehiyo kung maituturing matingnan ka lamang nito.
And his lips? God those thick and sinful lips! It looks so soft that it’s almost out of place against the sharp cut of his jaw. Mga labi na hindi na kailangan buksan upang mapakinggan. One smirk, one curve, and the room would listen, kaya ‘di mo rin masisi kung bakit ang mga Couprangs, his fans, ay ganoon na lamang kung tumahol sa kanilang ddaddu. It was the kind of mouth that could start a war or end one with a simple ‘shhh’.
Ay wow! ‘Yan pa ba ang ‘di nagwagwapuhan? Kulang na lang luhuran eh. Ano ba! That wasn’t me, that was Patricia! It was just a moment of weakness, friends. Tao laban sa sarili moment.
Napabalik ang tingin n’ya sa salamin at nakitang naglalakad na palabas ng pinto ang kaibigan. At bakit sila magkasama sa isang room? Hindi rin alam ng stylists nila sa trip ng dalawa kahit namagkaibang brand naman ang nirerepresenta nila for this year’s Met Gala.
Si Minghao—yes, THE Xu Minghao, a fashion icon who’s not just a model with a pretty face, kundi siya rin ang kauna-unahang male idol na nag-collab ng sarili niyang oil paintings with Louis Vuitton. Like, who even does that? Art and high fashion in one frame? Only him.
And then there’s Yoon Jeonghan, a model who’s at a very young age of 8, was already bagging millions of dollar from his modelling career. Kumbaga eh, he knew who he was at a very young age. He was born ready for the spotlight ika nga. As the only son of a famous actor and a beauty queen, he was once called a nepo baby. Affected ba s’ya? No. He’s even grateful to his parents for the genes—GANDANG ‘DI N’YO RANAS! The haters? Well, let’s just say that Hannie proved them wrong. He’s more than his family name, he worked hard, and earned a title for himself. That’s just how good he is on what he does.
"Tumayo ka na d’yan. Hinihintay ka na nung nangreject sa’yo."
✨✨✨
"Hi! What’s your name? I’m Yoon Jeonghan but please call me Hannie. That’s what my friends and family call me eh." Pakilala ng labing-pitong taong gulang na Jeonghan sa nakatalikod na binata sa harap n’ya. Well that’s Yoon Jeonghan to all, warm and friendly. Na over naman sa pagiging Mr. Congeniality ang sissy ko na ‘yan!
Nandito sila ngayon sa audition ng isang international clothing brand for their summer collection. Thousands of auditionees lining up for this once in a lifetime opportunity. Jeonghan is not actually supposedly here. He had a direct invite from the said brand, but he kindly refused the offer. He badly wants this collection, that having a fast-pass does not sit right with him. If he wants something, he makes sure that he will earn it fair and square.
Humarap ang matangkad na binata. Maputing balat, makapal nakilay, mapulang labi—at wait dimples ba ‘yon??? SHET ANG GWAPO! Lord! Itabi mo, kaya ko na ‘to! Akin na ‘to!
And the guy? Well, he only took one look with a blank expression, he did not even bother to wave or smile back. He just turned away with a shrug.
"Hoy tinatanong kita! ‘Di mo ba ako kilala? Ako si Yoon Jeonghan." Hindi naman talaga pikon si Jeonghan, promise hindi talaga. For working in this industry for more than half of his life, he learned the bitter truth that not all people would like you. You can’t please everyone and he’s fine with that. That’s just how life is. But this one is different, because the guy in front was his type. JOJOWAIN type! Kaya ‘di kaya ng ego n’ya na magkaroon ng instant crush tapos d'dedmahin lang s’ya.
"Cheol." Sagot ng lalaki bago tuluyang umalis. Leaving the pretty angel-looking guy confused, hurting, and mad.
Or that was what the impression of Seungcheol left to the young Jeonghan.
Little did the latter know, the silence wasn’t disinterest. It was awe. It was admiration. One glance across a crowded room, and suddenly the noise from the audition faded, the lights softened, and time, for the first time in his life, forgot how to move forward.
The curve of that stranger’s smile, the way the light danced in his eyes, it was unfair, almost cruel. How can a guy be so pretty and handsome at the same time? Looking like that not knowing they were changing someone else’s world... Seungcheol’s world.
Dumbstruck and standing too still, too late. Umalis na lang s’ya sa dating pwesto kesa magmukhang tanga.
And just like that, with one stunned silence mistaken for arrogance, began a rivalry that would stretch over thirteen long years in the heart of the fashion world.
Runways turned into battlegrounds.
Magazine covers felt like territory claims.
And every backstage and photoshoot encounter crackled with an unspoken tension, sharp enough to slice through the finest fabric.
✨✨✨
The crowd buzzed, cameras flashing in blinding rhythm, voices screaming from behind velvet ropes. Celebrities and artists came and went, each one draped in high fashion couture and expensive jewelries, walking the stairs like royalty. But when he arrived, everything paused.
As the top model whose presence could silence a room, whose walk could sell out a collection before the show even ended, Yoon Jeonghan stood at the edge of the carpet, one foot stepping out of the luxury car and the other sinking into the midnight blue, dotted with white-and-yellow narcissus blooms carpet like it was made for him. Dressed in an Yves Saint Laurent masterpiece, he moved like a poetry personified. His long, black hair framing his angel-like features. Sharp cheekbones, lips painted the softest red, and his eyes. The kind that didn’t just look at you, they read you.
Photographers lost their minds. Paparazzis in chaos.
He walked, slow and deliberate, like the world owed him its gaze. And it did.
Somewhere past the chaos, behind the velvet curtain of the gala’s entrance, stood Choi Seungcheol.
Watching.
He was supposed to be inside already as he arrived early, as always. But the moment the crowd erupted, he knew. He knew it was him.
Jeonghan…
Yoon Jeonghan.
Thirteen years hadn’t dulled the memory of that first look, nor the sting of everything that followed. And now, watching him command the carpet like an angel descending, Seungcheol felt that same damned stillness in his chest.
The cameras didn’t rest. Every step on the carpet was met with a thousand flashes, hundred voices trying to get a single quote, one reaction worth a headline. Jeonghan knew the drill. Chin up, posture perfect, lips curved just right.
But this time, a question came unexpected.
“Jeonghan! Quick one! What’s your reaction to Seungcheol dropping your name earlier? He said he was looking forward to seeing you tonight!”
The mic hovered close, the reporter’s eyes lit with anticipation. The crowd hushed just enough to hear.
Jeonghan blinked.
His lips twitched, caught between a smirk and something softer.
“Talaga?” he said, voice calm, but his heart thudded loud in his chest. “That’s a first.”
The reporter laughed awkwardly. “Considering you two are, well… famously at odds in the industry, medyo unexpected, ‘di ba?”
Jeonghan tilted his head, gaze drifting just slightly beyond the crowd, almost as if he could feel Seungcheol watching. Not knowing that he, in fact, is.
“Maybe hindi man kami laging magkasundo sa runway,” he said coolly na hindi mo aakalaing nag-rant sa kaibigan earlier before they left the hotel room, “pero if he said my name… then I guess he just likes me like that.”
The reporter blinked. “So, friends na kayo? Or probably something more?”
Jeonghan’s smile deepened, eyes gleaming.
“Let’s just say,” he replied, stepping back into the flashing lights, “ S ome names… you never really stop waiting to hear.”
He turned, the train of his custom YSL piece trailing behind him, every camera trying to catch the moment his mask slipped.
But Jeonghan? He was already walking toward where Cheol stood, just beside the entrance.
✨✨✨
Under the shimmer of chandeliers and the hush of designer fabrics sweeping marble floors, the Met Gala was in full swing. A venue for the world’s most beautiful faces and big egos.
Nakatayo sa gitna ng kwarto, magkaharap, parang trip na naman sila ng universe. Paulit-ulit na lang, parang joke na ’di nakakatawa. Funny ’yon, ha? Funny ’yon?
"Tsk! Akala ko pa naman tinaasan na nila standards this year. And here you are." Jeonghan habang hawak-hawak ang baso ng champagne na kanina pa n’ya pinaglalaruan. Habang tinitingnan mula ulo hanggang paa ang lalaki sa harap.
Seungcheol smirked. “Don’t worry, you lowered them just enough for balance.”
Jeonghan stepped closer, his voice low. “You’ve been copying my walk and my nuances since the YSL’s fashion show in Berlin. You even copied my hanniehae pose at the Loewe Paris Fashion Week this year, you jerk! Walang originality! A copycat!”
Seungcheol tilted his head, unfazed. “Oh? Akala ko you were the one copying my relevance since 2015? Remember my Numero Tokyo shoot? You copied the looks there for Vogue.”
“And I didn’t know you’re a fan, angel? Watching my shows, huh?” The older added, his dimples showing.
Tangina ang gwapo nga talaga. Isip ni Jeonghan habang nakatitig sa mukha ng kaharap.
“Whatever, boss of the BOSS. Who even thought of that awful title for your global ambassadorship?”
“Still bitter that I got to bag BOSS?”
“ As if!”
Their conversation went on dripping with silk and spite, but beneath it is a tension years in the making. The kind of rivalry too personal to be just professional.
“Pupunta ka ba sa after-party?” Jeonghan asked, not looking at Seungcheol directly. “I heard Chanel’s throwing something big.”
Seungcheol chuckled softly, not even pretending to think about it.
“Hindi,” he said simply, glancing at Jeonghan with that usual unreadable expression. “Social battery too low para makipag-usap sa mga lasing.”
Jeonghan raised a brow, half-amused. “Wow. Ikaw na ang pure.”
Seungcheol turned fully now, eyes locking with his. A beat passed.
“Pero…” he added, his tone suddenly lighter, almost teasing, “You want tteokbokki? I know a place. Malapit lang.”
Jeonghan blinked, caught off guard. “Wait, what?”
“Tteokbokki.” Seungcheol said with a smirk, walking past him toward the exit. “Coming or not?”
And for the first time in a long time, Jeonghan didn’t have a snarky comeback. Just the echo of his heartbeat and the quiet, annoying smile forming on his lips.
Sorry Hao, mukhang uuwi ka mag-isa.
✨✨✨
Seungcheol and Jeonghan sat across from each other in a small Korean food place, a steaming plate of tteokbokki between them, its fiery red sauce matching the slight flush on their cheeks.
Jeonghan slurped a rice cake, winced at the spice, then chased it down with the banana milk they ordered.
“Ay gago, ang anghang!” Jeonghan mumbled, fanning his mouth.
Seungcheol laughed for real this time. No layers, no sarcasm. “ Low tol.”
Jeonghan gave him a mock glare, then wiped his lips before going quieter. “Cheol… seryoso, bakit ka ba ganyan?”
Seungcheol looked up, one brow raised. “What?”
“’Yung snobbish. Cold. Ever since, parang may galit ka sakin. Pero…” Jeonghan paused, eyes narrowing a bit, “naaalala mo man lang ba ako? Audition. Thirteen years ago. ‘Yung sa model casting for the summer collection.”
For a second, Seungcheol froze. The kind of stillness that meant yes, he remembered. He remembered every second of it.
He leaned back, sighing, eyes now on the tteokbokki like it held the script to everything he never said.
“Naalala kita,” Seungcheol said softly. “Mas malinaw pa sa kahit anong shoot natin.”
Jeonghan blinked. “Then why?”
Seungcheol poked at the food with his chopsticks, suddenly a bit awkward, like he wasn’t used to this kind of honesty.
“Kasi, Jeonghan…” he started, “that moment caught me off guard. I was stunned, literally. Pero ang hirap nun, ‘di ba? Pano mo lalapitan ‘yun isang taong feeling mo ang layo na agad? I was a kid back then. I guess pride? Fear? Timing that never made sense?”
Jeonghan stayed quiet.
“So I panicked,” Seungcheol continued. “nagkunwari akong wala lang. That I wasn’t interested. For you not to notice how big of a fan I am. Para hindi mo mahalata.”
Jeonghan tilted his head. “Mahalata ang alin?”
“Na gusto kita,” Cheol said plainly. “since day one I laid my eyes on you sa isang tv commercial, years before the audition.”
Silence.
Seungcheol shrugged, laughing bitterly. “Honestly, the rivalry? That’s just a way para magpapansin sa’yo all these years. So you would remember me.”
Jeonghan slowly set his banana milk down, eyes not leaving Seungcheol.
“Putek,” he said quietly. “thirteen years of papansin? ‘Di ba pwedeng dumiretso ka na lang kasi?”
Seungcheol chuckled, a little embarrassed. “Wala na kasi ako sa phase ng direct. Takot ako masira yung illusion mo sa’kin.”
“And the headlines that come with our rivalry? That was enough for me. My name next to yours? That’s definitely one for the books, Hannie.” He added, tone laced with adoration.
Jeonghan looked at him for a long moment. Then smiled. Soft this time.
They sat in silence again, this time letting it cradle them gently. The kind of silence that would comfort you.
Then Cheol reached across the table, fingers brushing against Jeonghan’s hand. No theatrics. Just a touch. Warm, grounding, long overdue.
A soft smile formed on the younger’s lips. The kind that didn’t belong on a runway, but in moments like this.
“Okay,” he said, squeezing back. “Simulan natin sa dessert. May bingsu pa dito, ‘di ba?”
Cheol laughed and for the first time in thirteen years, the space between them wasn’t a stage.
It was just theirs.
“Same time next year?” Cheol asked, voice low, sure.
Jeonghan smiled, half-teasing “If you’re still invited.”
“ I am,” Cheol smiled, eyes gentle “as your date.”
Jeonghan grinned. “Date.”