Chapter Text
“Petra and Traute, please step forward.”
Petra’s heart hammers in her chest with Ymir’s announcement.
She’s in the bottom two – again. She knows she didn’t do well in yesterday’s photoshoot, but she didn’t imagine her photo would be that lifeless mess she saw earlier.
Maria said she looked moments away from dying, her expression monotonous, deprived of any emotion. Rose went on and on about how her fingers weren’t delicate enough. Sina only shook her head in disapproval, no further comments needed.
All in all, not her finest moment.
And now that Ymir, their host and mentor, calls her name, Petra only wishes the judges believe Traute’s photo is worse than hers.
Hers and Traute’s heels echo through the studio as they walk toward Ymir.
“Two beautiful girls stand before me, but I only have one photo in my hands.” Ymir’s eyes shift between the two of them, cold and sharp. The intensity in them makes Petra clench her fists at her sides. “This photo represents the model who’s still running towards becoming Paradis’ next top model. The name I do not call must immediately return to the house, pack her belongings…” Her voice drops to a dramatic whisper. “And leave.”
That girl won’t be Petra. It can’t be. She’s worked her ass off, she belongs here. This judging panel won’t be her last, no way.
She’s heard the same speech over and over, both from the TV when she was watching the episodes with her family, and then as a contestant after every photoshoot. Now Ymir’s words hit different. They could be about her.
“You two stand here for very different reasons,” Ymir continues, brushing a blonde strand of hair behind her ear. “Traute. You’re a conventionally attractive woman, tall and elegant.”
As much as Petra hates to admit it, it’s true. She feels so small next to her opponent, and not just physically.
“But that’s not enough to make you a top model. You already know what your weak point is: Attitude.”
Finally, someone calls her out. Petra will never forgive her for bullying Nifa. She’d been so affected by Traute’s obnoxious remarks that she couldn’t concentrate on the photoshoot and got eliminated.
Petra will not accept leaving the game before Traute. She has to do better. She owes it to Nifa, and she owes it to herself.
“Petra,” Ymir says her name with an exhale. “Every time I look at you, I see a gorgeous face, a wonderful set of eyes, and a radiant smile that could outshine the sun. But you’re not exactly model material.”
Petra nods. All of her life, she’s been hearing that.
“Yet, you convinced us that you have what it takes, despite your height. You represent the diversity that we want to bring into the fashion industry, just like Levi does.”
Petra turns her head to her right, where Levi is standing among the rest of the players who already got their photos and passed to the next round.
Levi consistently brings great photos, always impressing the judges. And impressing Petra as well. She can’t help but admire him for pushing the boundaries of fashion and promoting inclusion, just like Petra has always dreamt of.
The poses he chooses make him look incredibly tall. His abs are to die for, and his eyes– God, his eyes.
Today, his photo won the judges over instantly. The theme was ice skating, and the silver hue of his eyes was exactly the same as the snow around him. Magical.
Meanwhile, Petra couldn’t even stand for two seconds; the ice was too slippery. And her fear reflected on her photo.
“Petra, you started so well!” Ymir exclaims. “Your photos used to be phenomenal at the beginning of the contest! What happened?”
She takes a deep breath. “I know that lately my performance has been disappointing. I just need another chance. And I promise I’ll try my best! I'll work harder than ever before!”
“Traute, do you hear that?” Ymir asks. “That’s the passion we want to see!”
Traute curls her lip. “I do have a passion for modeling, I just didn’t like the last photoshoot.”
“You think in the outside world you’ll like every job you get? Traute, that’s not something a professional would say. Even if your final result is okay – which today wasn’t – nobody will want to work with you if you’re constantly whining.”
“I mean… The set was too cold, I was freezing–”
“Always excuses.” Ymir rolls her eyes so hard that Petra thinks they will go hide behind her golden bangs. “Traute, the conditions were the same for everyone. Some models decided to work hard, like Levi and Erwin, and you decided to complain. You’re acting rather childish, and it’s getting exhausting. That’s why you have to leave.”
With a swift move, Ymir reveals Petra’s photo.
Petra’s knees give out in relief and she covers her face as she bends over. She knew it, she goddamn knew it!
“Congratulations, Petra. You’re still in the running towards becoming Paradis’ next top model.”
Her voice comes out wobbly. “Thank you.”
“Darling, no one can question your resolve. Use it to your advantage. Don’t bring us another ridiculous photo.”
Petra takes the photo from Ymir’s outstretched hand and immediately folds it. It’s true, it is ridiculous; she doesn’t want to look at it. She considers tearing it to pieces once they return to the mansion where they’re staying.
That was a close one. Petra can’t let it happen again.
Levi can’t bring himself to care about Traute’s elimination. She’s nothing but a pretentious bitch that leaves her dirty dishes in the sink. Good riddance. One less competitor to worry about.
They board the minibus that will take them back to the house when someone taps his shoulder. He turns around to see Petra fixing him with a kind smile.
“I liked your photo, it’s very beautiful. Good job.”
“Thanks.”
He can’t return the compliment. Petra is fine – maybe a bit too innocent for the world, but she doesn’t create drama for the TV and she’s genuinely trying hard. However, her photo was bad. Really bad.
They return to the house, which every week feels better and better with less people. Finally, they have space to put their belongings. The line for the bathroom isn’t the nightmare it used to be.
There’s only six of them left.
Erwin and Miche are strong opponents, both tall and blond, and determined to win. Levi can see himself hanging out with them once the contest is over. But here they are his enemies.
Ilse is an egomaniac who wants everyone to worship her like a goddess. She doesn't want to be a model, only a reality celebrity. Famous. The only reason she's still here is because those who left happened to perform worse. And frankly, Ilse doesn't look like she can stay away from her real life much longer. She always whines about not being allowed to use Instagram, and she keeps a diary that she’s obsessed over.
Nanaba stands out with her androgynous style. At the beginning of the contest, she was furious with her makeover, even though Ymir and the rest of the judges reassured her she rocked her pixie haircut. As the game progressed, she embraced her new look. She’s now one of Levi’s strongest opponents.
Petra is not a threat. It’s only a matter of time until she leaves.
To regain his strength after another exhausting judging panel, Levi makes himself an omelet, and devours it in mere seconds. Of fucking course he washes his dish, he’s not an animal.
“Hey, Levi!” Hange calls out to him, followed by Moblit, the cameraman. “Wanna talk about the panel? How do you feel now that Traute’s gone?”
Levi’s eyelid twitches and he turns around, heading for his room. “No, thanks.”
Hange may be the director, but he doesn’t owe her anything, especially not gossip and comments she can edit and present out of context.
He enters his room – which used to be packed with roommates, but now he’s the only one left – and slams the door in Hange’s face.
That doesn’t stop her from barging in.
“Levi,” she groans. “Come on, you gotta give us something. This is a reality show first and foremost. And you barely talk!”
He collapses on his bed and starts massaging his nape. Fuck, he’s tense. He needs a good night’s sleep – if Hange ever leaves him alone.
“I’m here only to do photoshoots,” he tells her in hopes of turning her away.
“Honey, that’s not enough. Why do you think Gunther got eliminated so early? Amazing dude, but he didn’t give us any juicy content.”
“Tch. Miche doesn’t talk either and he’s still here.”
“But he has this thing going on with Nanaba, and you know that viewers are dying for this kind of stuff!” Hange wiggles her eyebrows. Next to her, Moblit chuckles. “Oh, maybe you could flirt a little bit with Petra! In front of the cameras, of course. Didn’t you help her with her spilled soup yesterday?”
For fuck’s sake. “I mop the floor for one minute and you make it out to be a big deal.”
“And you helped her when she fell off the catwalk last week!” Moblit chimes in.
“I was standing closer than anyone else. I just happened to get there first.”
Hange squeals like an idiot. “And she was soooo grateful! Remember, Moblit?” She elbows him in the ribs, and poor Moblit winces in pain and struggles to balance the camera.
Levi gets up from his bed. “Look, there’s nothing going on with Petra. We’ve barely spoken since the start of the game. And even if I was interested in her, I wouldn’t use her to improve my chances of winning. I have confidence in my own abilities as a model.”
“Very well,” Hange says, shrugging her shoulders. “Can you give me something else, at least? Maybe say something about Miche or Erwin. I’m sure you’ve noticed that Erwin is flirting with the judges every chance he gets. Sina swoons over him. Do you think that’s fair?”
“Not my business. Good night.” Levi gestures toward the door.
“Ugh, fine, fine, you might as well sleep since you’ve got nothing interesting to report. Come on, Moblit.”
Finally.
But before Hange closes the door behind her as she leaves, she turns over her shoulder and warns him. “Just keep in mind that the judges will take your unwillingness to cooperate with me into account. No matter how you perform on the next photoshoot.”
“I’ll take my chances.” Yes, he wants to win, but he won’t sacrifice his principles. Levi is here only for the contract with the modelling agency and the prize money. Not for the fame. Not to make a spectacle of himself for views and Instagram followers.
“Suit yourself.”
“What time is the photoshoot tomorrow?”
Hange blinks in confusion. “Tomorrow is Christmas, you dummy. You’ll have the day off.”
“I won’t lie, I miss my home,” Petra confesses to the camera, as she brings her legs up on the couch and hugs a pillow.
Hange nods encouragingly and rolls her finger in the air. “Go on,” she mouths.
Petra knows she’s not comforting her; she will only use her sensitivity to impress the audience. But she can’t hold it in anymore. She views this filming time as her much-needed therapy session.
“Today it’s Christmas and… And it’s the first time I spend it away from my family. I don't regret it, of course. I’m happy I’m still here.”
Petra clears her throat and sits up straighter. She doesn’t intend to cry in front of the camera - crying on Christmas Day would be pathetic.
It's the first Christmas ever she's woken up without a present waiting for her under the tree. Without her mother’s homemade cookies. Without her father’s old CDs with carols playing in the background as they gather together in their pajamas to open their gifts.
“Ever since Nifa and Rico got eliminated, I’ve been lonely,” Petra admits. Perhaps acknowledging and expressing her vulnerability makes it more painful, more real, but today she can’t suppress it. “I get it, we’re not here to make friends. Each of us has to focus on themselves and on becoming better models, but I do miss their company. And–”
A knock on the front door startles her.
She looks at Hange, confused. “I thought we didn’t have a photoshoot scheduled for today?”
“You don’t,” Hange confirms with a suspicious grin.
“Who is it, then?”
“Why don’t you go and see?”
That’s strange. Even Moblit is smiling now.
Petra walks to the door as the bell rings incessantly, already giving her a headache. She thought she’d be able to take a break today – a break she really needed after yesterday’s fiasco. If Ymir has another challenge for them–
But she opens the door and bursts in excited screams. Because it’s her parents.
“Mom! Dad!”
They’re standing right in front of her, at last, with open arms, and Petra launches herself onto them.
“Oh god! I can’t believe you’re here! Oh my god!”
“Petra!”
“Oh, darling, we missed you!”
She’s never hugged them tighter. She needs to make sure that they’re real, that they’re actually here. God, it’s been so long!
Petra buries her face in the crook of her mother’s neck. Same perfume as always – citrus and lime. Her father’s hand squeezes her shoulder, strong and steady, and suddenly she feels safe and protected, even in this competition that wants to exploit her every weakness.
“They cut your hair!” her mother notices as they pull back from their embrace. She cups Petra’s face. “It suits you!”
“Yes, I don’t even need to brush it! I woke up like this!”
“You look thinner,” her dad comments, an apprehensive expression clouding his face. “Are they feeding you well?”
She playfully punches him in the torso. “Of course, dad! What nonsense!”
Hange’s voice comes from the living room. “Petra, won’t you invite them in?”
“Can… Can I?”
“Why do you think they’re here? We wouldn’t let you spend Christmas without your loved ones!”
Soon, more guests appear.
Ilse’s sisters are identical to her; same hairdo, same facial expressions, same heavy accents. They can easily pass as triplets.
Erwin’s girlfriend is also here, and Petra can now understand why he’s been constantly talking about her in his interviews. Marie this and Marie that. She’s elegant and classy, and looks at Erwin with sheer adoration. They exchange one french kiss after another in the middle of the living room, and it’s kinda awkward to watch. They deserve it, though. They’ve been apart for too long.
Erwin’s father is also here, a sophisticated gentleman that looks exactly like Erwin, only with glasses and grey hair. And he’s flirting with Nanaba’s mother.
Nanaba’s father doesn’t seem concerned. He’s only talking with his daughter. Now that Petra thinks about it, Nanaba may have mentioned that her parents are divorced.
Miche’s parents rush to meet Nanaba. They’re more interested in her than in their own son, but Miche looks content with the lack of attention.
Someone – probably Hange – has put on Christmas music in the speakers, and their surprise party feels like exactly what everyone here needs.
Petra takes her parents on a tour around the house. She shows them her room and her bed – which she thankfully cared enough to make earlier when she woke up – and takes out her portfolio.
“This is the first photoshoot we ever did in the game! The judges loved it!” She flips page after page and tells them all about her adventures in the contest. The good moments, and the bad. It’d be preferable if Moblit wasn’t following them around with the camera, but it is what it is.
When they get back to the living room, Petra’s mother reaches into her bag. “Oh, I almost forgot! I have something for you! Something you absolutely love!”
When she takes out a jar of her homemade cookies, Petra gasps. “No, you didn’t!”
“It wouldn’t be a proper Christmas without them.”
“I can’t believe it!”
“Don’t eat them all in one day!” she warns, handing over the jar.
Her father bumps his shoulder against hers. “Don’t listen to your mother, Petra. Eat as many as you want, you should make up for the weight you lost.”
Petra laughs, shaking her head, and for a while everything feels perfect. It almost feels like home.
She has so much to share, but she doesn’t know how long their visit will last. She wants to ask how things are back home. Is granny okay? They didn’t touch anything in Petra’s bedroom, right?
Petra is halfway through telling her mother about the last runway challenge when she glances toward the kitchen.
The living room is buzzing with laughter – carols playing, people hugging, happy tears welling their eyes – but Levi is sitting alone at the counter. A plate of food rests in front of him, mostly untouched.
No one came for him.
Maybe they’re late. There’s always a huge traffic on Christmas Day.
Or maybe…
Petra doesn’t want to think about the other possibility.
Levi’s eating with that same slow, detached rhythm he always has, but there’s something different today. Maybe it’s the way he keeps his eyes down.
“Um, excuse me for a moment,” she says to her parents and walks over to him, clutching the jar of cookies.
Levi looks up from his plate when she hovers next to him.
She sets the jar on the table and opens it. “Um, you want one? My mother made them.”
It takes him forever to reply. His gaze alternates between Petra and the jar. “Cookies are not good for models. We gotta watch our diet.”
“I swear, I’m not trying to sabotage you. It’s only a cookie, anyway. What harm can it do? I say you make an exemption. My mom’s recipe is totally worth it. And…” She shrugs. “It’s Christmas, Levi.”
The same ethereal eyes that have captured the judges’ hearts are now looking at her with an intensity that makes her cheeks flush. He’s gorgeous. How can Petra think she has any chance of winning the contest when he’s also here?
“Thank you, Petra,” he says, his voice low and husky. He takes a cookie, and Petra can’t help but notice the veins in his arm.
He doesn’t take a bite, he shoves the whole thing into his mouth.
How Petra wishes she were that cookie.
“Do you like the cookies? I made them!” Petra’s mother comes over, tugging her husband by the hand. “Eat more! Mind if we join you?” She sits on the stool next to him without waiting for an answer. “Hi, I’m Petra’s mom!”
Petra wants for the ground to open up and swallow her whole.
Levi offers his hand – his muscled, perfect hand – for a handshake. “Levi.”
“We’re so happy to meet one of Petra’s friends,” her father says, almost sending her into a coma. They’re not friends. They’re barely friendly. But she can’t explain that to him, and, thankfully, Levi also lets it slip by.
However, no matter how embarrassing her parents may be, Petra’s glad that they joined her in keeping Levi company.
No one deserves to be alone on Christmas Day.
Turns out Levi really needed a day off. The edge in his shoulders is mostly gone. Impromptu parties aren’t his thing, but today’s celebration was still better than another stressful photoshoot.
He lies in bed and discovers that he’s not that tired. Fuck, he knows he’s gotta rest and gather strength for tomorrow, but he can’t fall asleep. No matter how tightly he keeps his eyes shut. Not after the melatonin pill he took. Not with the rare silence in the room – he will not miss Oruo’s midnight appetite for gossip, or Eld’s snoring from the top bunk.
Bored of tossing around, Levi decides to go for a walk. The garden has been his refuge when the house gets too loud and overwhelming. He goes there to work out and decompress – unless Moblit follows him for a close-up of his biceps.
During the night, the garden is peaceful. The only sounds are the hiss of the automatic watering system and the chirping of distant crickets. The moon is full tonight.
He’s not in the mood for a workout right now. He’d rather sit under his favorite pine, the one with the thickest branches that provide the best shade. Not that it matters much in the middle of the night, but he’s gotten used to it.
He’s about to sit when movement catches his eye across the garden.
At first, he thinks it’s one of the camera crew sneaking around, but then he realizes it’s Petra. She’s walking back and forth along the stone path, still in her pajamas, heels in her hand.
What the hell is she doing out here?
She sets the shoes down, steps into them carefully, and starts walking again. Head up, shoulders back, one foot straight in front of the other. Moving her hips a tad too much.
The scene’s so absurd that Levi almost snorts.
Oh no, she’s walking toward him. She’s going to see him, it’s inevitable. If Levi stands up and tries to run, he’ll only draw more attention. So he sits there, his fist clenching the grass beside him, until Petra notices him.
And gasps.
“Oh my god! Levi!” She almost trips and breaks her stilettos. “You scared me!”
“Sorry.”
Petra presses a hand to her chest, still catching her breath. “What are you doing out here?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” Levi says.
“Same.” She fidgets with the hem of her pajama top, then gestures vaguely toward the stone path. “Thought I’d, uh… practice.”
He leans back on his palms. “Careful not to twist an ankle. I want you eliminated, but not like this.”
It’s too dark to make out her features, but it looks like a faint smile crosses her face. She steps closer, her heels crunching softly in the grass. Yeah, she’s smiling.
“I know I was too close to leaving, but I won’t let it happen again. I can’t. I’m too determined.” Petra sits next to him. Uninvited. How straightforward. Levi came here for some tranquility. Yet, he finds that Petra’s presence doesn’t get on his nerves the way most people’s do. So, he stays put. “Any advice from the judges’ favorite?” she asks him with a playful grin.
Levi snorts. “We both know that’s Erwin.”
“Oh, right. Maybe you’re my favorite, then.”
What did she just–
Her words catch him off guard. But then he remembers Hange’s insistence on making them a pair. She probably convinced Petra to approach him. That’s why she and her parents kept him company during the party.
Even now, away from the cameras, Petra is laying the groundwork for an elaborate scheme to capture the audience with a love affair.
Indeed, she’s too determined to stay in the competition. Why else would she sit with him? Suddenly everything makes sense.
Petra notices the pause and bites her lip, suddenly unsure. “I’m kidding,” she says quickly. “I’m my own favorite.”
“That’s the attitude you’re gonna need moving forward,” he mutters, detached, not looking at her.
She hugs her knees to her chest. “The truth is I struggle with self-confidence sometimes.”
Levi’s gaze lingers on the grass. “It’s the same for everyone in the beginning.”
“Was it like this for you when you started modelling? I mean…” She scoots closer. “The girls might have mentioned that you worked as a model before the contest. But I can’t imagine you being insecure. You give off the whole ‘I don’t care what others say about me’ vibe.”
Levi runs his hand through his tousled hair. “That was ages ago. Plus, I was a kid, so I saw it more as a game.”
“What? You were a child model?” Her eyes light up.
“Yeah, you know… My mother, like every mother in the world, thought I was the most beautiful kid on planet Earth. She used to take me to castings all the time. I did some ads, some photoshoots, I joined an agency… All the basic stuff a child model does.”
Petra rests her chin on her knees. “Wow, you must have been adorable!”
Another attempt at flirting? Hange would be really proud.
Levi shrugs. “I made fair money. God knows we needed it.” Given that his mother couldn’t land a job. Given that he was the only one bringing money in.
“And when you grew older? You stopped?”
“Not by choice. I… I stopped growing taller.” Levi shouldn’t be ashamed to say it out loud. It’s obvious and it’s out of his control. Yet, he is. “The model industry has very specific standards for adults. I couldn’t book any job. The clothes I was supposed to advertise looked like tents on me. So, eventually the agency dropped me. I tried on my own, but with no luck. Everyone said midgets don’t belong in fashion.”
“I heard that a lot too. But I guess it’s harsher when you’re a guy.”
“I guess.”
“And what did you do for a living, then?”
He shrugs. “McDonalds. Starbucks. Here and there. This game is a second chance for me. A chance to reclaim my dream.”
“I’m sure your mother will be very proud to see you now. It’s a pity she didn’t manage to come today, but she’ll no doubt enjoy the episodes when they air.”
“Yeah…”
Levi picks at a blade of grass. He doesn’t need to tell Petra that his mother has been dead for over a decade, or that he always spends Christmas alone. And maybe he went too far by opening up about his modelling career as a child and his failed attempts later. Petra is not his friend, she is his competitor. One of them. Albeit weak, she’s still here.
“I think I’ll head to bed. It’s late,” he says and stands up. “Maybe you should too.”
“I need some more practice. On the last catwalk, Rose said I walk like a drunk penguin.”
And she wasn’t entirely wrong.
“Suit yourself. Just…” Levi lets out a long exhale. “It’s pretty chilly out here. What if you catch a cold?”
“I can’t practice in the mansion. My heels would wake you guys up.”
“I survived Oruo’s snoring, you can’t be worse.”
Petra’s laughter fills the air. It’s established that she’s beautiful, that’s why she’s in the game. But now that she’s relaxed, she looks even more stunning compared to the forced poses in her photos. Perhaps Levi should tell her. Something like, Hey, when you don’t pressure yourself and you smile genuinely, it’s like looking at a cover of a best-seller magazine. I’d buy it for sure.
But it’s not his business to interfere and give her advice she didn’t ask for.
And they’re competing against each other, for fuck’s sake.
So, instead he says, “Do whatever you want, just keep in mind that sometimes sleep is more important than practice.”
She’s still laughing when she responds, “What if you’re trying to sabotage me? That’s why you don’t want me to practice?”
“Shit, you figured it out.”
“You know, I could eliminate you here and now.” Petra picks up one of her stilettos and points it at him. “If I stab you with it, you’re out.”
“Sounds like a perfect way to go.”
She throws it in his general direction with no intent to hit him. “Go away now, Levi. Let me practice my miserable catwalk skills with no witnesses.”
He chuckles and turns around to leave. “Goodnight, Petra,” he says over his shoulder.