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When you made it onto Project Runway, you were incredibly excited. If the best designer picked you and won, your name and image would be spread across the nation. It’s a great modeling opportunity. At worst, you’d get more experience.
The first challenge you were put with a designer who you just couldn’t see potential in. You didn’t like the design they put you in, and you ended up standing on the stage next to them while they defended their design to the judges. You didn’t want that; you wanted to win. Your heart was set on victory. You were not going home without being in a photoshoot covered in the winning designer’s brand.
Finally, when you were back on the runway staring down at the fourteen designers, you hoped someone there would pick you. There was the chance that you weren’t picked, and you would be kicked from the competition entirely. There was another chance you were able to be picked by someone who could take you to walk down fashion week. You dragged your eyes over the faces of the designers. You wanted to find the one who would take you to New York Fashion Week. You didn’t want someone bland. You needed someone confident in their designs.
Your eyes snagged on a man with a multitude of piercings. His clothes were dark, his hair was dyed a dark black with white roots just barely peeking through. His blue eyes were already trained on you, taking in every bit of you. As a model, you were used to eyes on your body, but these were warm. You liked how they weren’t harsh and weren't trying to pull your clothes off. His gaze was gentle, and it felt like he was figuring out how he would design something for you. His eyes finally met yours. You felt a buzz of excitement pass between the two of you. Even while you were all the way up on the runway, you could see his determination. He wanted to win, you wanted to win. You glanced down at the ground, fighting down your smile.
When his button was called, you committed the name to memory. His eyes stayed on you as he said your name. You smiled brightly and stepped off the runway, heading directly towards the back.
Every challenge with Dabi by your side, you felt confident in the clothes he made for you. He had the highest score in almost every single challenge. You liked his clothes, you’d wear them in your everyday life if you could. There was a round where another designer stole you from him. You hated every second of it, and you felt extreme jealousy when you saw his design on someone else. You swallowed your thoughts and kept your mouth shut. By the very next round, you were back in the comforting designs of Dabi.
You two slowly advanced past every elimination until you were down to five designers. You anxiously waited backstage as the five contestants waited for their news. You paced back and forth while the other models anxiously flipped through magazines and stared at the wall in fear of being eliminated. You dragged your eyes over the designs clinging to their bodies. They were good, but you liked the one you were wearing the most. Maybe you were biased, though.
You heard steps coming from the runway, your heart leaped. You froze in your step. Your smile fell when it wasn’t your designer. It was a different competitor with a bright smile. A model sprang from the couch, celebrating already. You smiled at them and continued your pacing. There were still two spots open for Fashion Week. Dabi was a promising young designer. There was no way he’d be eliminated, right? Right?
You wandered closer to the opening, waiting for Dabi to be confirmed for New York Fashion Week. You huffed out a breath, shaking your hands out at your sides. Steps coming around the corner made you freeze. Your eyes were glued to the spot Dabi would walk through. His face entered your field of vision. You reached his side immediately, trying to find the news in his face. He wasn’t smiling, but there was a shine in his eye that held your breath.
“We’re going to Fashion Week,” Dabi muttered, his eyebrows shooting up at the screech that fell from your mouth. You quickly pulled him into a hug, laughing with excitement. You were warmed by his arms wrapping around you. You pulled back, holding onto his shoulders. You couldn’t be happier. You were going ot walk in New York Fashion Week. In clothes that could be better designed by someone you couldn’t like more.
Months passed before Fashion Week finally arrived. You couldn’t wait. Even though you hadn’t spoken to Dabi in months, you still felt the same level of pull towards him. The clothes he made praised your body and were still stylish. You hoped he’d win the competition, but at this point, you were glad to just make it this far. You glanced at Dabi’s collection during your fitting. It was nothing compared to watching his designs walking around on models backstage. You were excited to walk down the runway. You couldn’t be prouder of Dabi and the work he put into this. You were the last model to walk in his lineup. He wandered down the line to you, looking you up and down. You posed in the same way you did on the runway. Dabi nodded, a small smile reaching his pierced lips.
“I like watching you walk down the runway,” Dabi muttered. You straightened up your back, smiling back at him.
“Because of your designs?” You asked. gesturing down to the clothes you were wearing. Dabi shook his head.
“No.” He whispered, wandering off again to let you simmer in your thoughts. You paused, wracking your brain for what he could’ve been referring to. He couldn’t he possibly mean you, could he? It wasn’t allowed for models and designers to date while on Project Runway. Much less the fact that he’d actually have to like you in that way. No, he wasn’t talking about you in that way. He meant he liked your modeling skills, that’s all. The feelings you were ignoring for him were one-sided, and you were okay with that. He and his designs were giving you the opportunity of a lifetime. That wasn’t something you were going to spoil by confessing your attraction to him.
You controlled your excitement as you walked the runway, pushing down the urge to search the crowd for your family, who came to support you. You fell into line as you and the other 11 models walked down the runway again together. Dabi fell in at your side, holding onto your hand. You ignored the warmth that rushed over you again and instead focused on walking. Dabi waved to the crowd as he walked past them.
You waited backstage with him, squeezing his hand tightly. You both waited anxiously to know who the winner was. It was him, you knew it in your heart. There was no chance it was either of the two competitors. Dabi’s collection blew the others out of the water completely. He was better. You weren’t biased at all. It had to be him. It had to be. You stared at the announcer, watching his mouth move but not catching a word of it.
“And the winner of Project Runway is…” He paused, an evil grin spreading across his lips as he looked around the crowd for their reaction. You wished he’d just spit it out already; he was playing with people’s lives. More or less. He looked back at the card in his hands, reading out the name written down by the judges. Your stomach dropped as another designer and model screamed in celebration.
Well, shit.
Now you wish the announcer would put it back, do a recall. That’s not right. It can’t be. Look at what you are wearing. That's not someone who loses. You were ready to win. Your shoulders dropped as you turned to Dabi, trying to gauge his reaction. The small smile and silent cocky air he had walking around backstage with all day had disappeared with the announcement that he had lost. He pushed a sigh through his nose, meeting your eyes. Dabi dropped your hand. He knocked your cheek gently with his knuckle, bringing a bittersweet smile to your face.
“You should get dressed,” Dabi muttered, walking off to the exit for the back alleyway. You watched him disappear behind the heavy metal door. You couldn’t believe you lost. You ignored the cameras zooming in on your reaction. You didn’t care if people saw that you were disappointed. Of course, you were disappointed. Obviously, you would be. You stared at the wall as you pulled yourself from his losing design. You hung it back on the hanger, zipping up the cover over it. You pulled on your regular day clothes and tried to wrap your head around the situation.
You were going to win. It made no sense that you didn’t. You two were unstoppable in the competition. Dabi flew through the eliminations so quickly that there was no reason for either of you to believe that he would ever be kicked from the show. He was far too talented to be left in the dust. You were sure he’d just…win. You were a good model; he was an even better designer. Those two powers just felt like something that couldn’t lose. So how did you?
You reluctantly set the hanger on the rack with Dabi’s name hung on the front. You slowly left for the exit, feeling like you were missing a piece of yourself. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. You entered the cold alleyway, pausing when you found Dabi with a cigarette held between his fingertips. The door slammed shut behind you. He raised his eyes from the ground, pulling them up your frame. You felt your body warm from his eyes. You squeezed your eyelids shut, reminiscing about the feeling. You opened them and immediately met his eyes. You joined him at the side, leaning against the wall. He offered his cigarette to you. You shook your head, staring ahead at the heavy exit door.
“I'm sorry you lost.” You whispered, feeling like the alley had the same effect as a confession booth. Dabi turned his head against the wall, looking at you.
“I’m sorry you lost.” He returned, pulling the cigarette to his lips. You hummed, looking down at the ground.
“I was so certain we would win. Your designs deserved to win.” You said, shaking your head in disbelief. A hum rattled Dabi’s ribs. He slowly blew out, smoke billowing from his mouth.
“It’s not all bad.” He turned his head to you, raising a brow at you. Your face crinkled in confusion. You asked him to continue with your expression.
“Well, now I can’t be eliminated for asking you out. I’ve already been eliminated.” Dabi’s face stayed neutral, making you question if he was joking or not. You circled through emotions, not sure what exactly you were supposed to feel. Was he kidding? That’s fucked up. Is he being serious? That would mean your attraction was in fact not one-sided. What were the chances of that? You guessed it couldn’t be that far off, but you still felt something stirring in your stomach. Maybe you just wanted it to be real. For now, you’ll entertain that.
“Yeah? Is that what you want?” You asked. An unsettling grin showed off his teeth as he stamped his cigarette out on the brick wall next to him. As he nodded, you felt a smile grow. You knew that whatever was blossoming between the two of you would be exciting.