Chapter Text
The first thing Gorya notices is the noise.
Not the loud kind—not the kind that fills your ears—but the kind that fills a room without trying. Laughter that doesn’t sound forced. Voices that don’t wait to be acknowledged. Cameras clicking like they’re chasing something that already belongs to them.
Power.
That’s what it feels like.
And at the center of it—
Shasha.
Gorya doesn’t mean to stare.
She really doesn’t.
But it’s hard not to when everyone else already is.
Shasha leans back in her chair like she owns the entire set—like the lights, the cameras, even the people moving around her exist because she allows them to. There’s something effortless about her, something practiced and natural all at once.
Beautiful, yes.
But more than that—
Untouchable.
“Gorya.”
She blinks, snapping out of it.
Her supervisor nudges her lightly, handing her a garment bag. “You’re assisting on her look today. Don’t mess it up.”
Her.
Of course.
Gorya nods, adjusting her grip on the bag. “I won’t.”
She’s done bigger things than this.
She’s worked twice as hard as anyone else in rooms like this just to earn a place in them.
She won’t let one person throw her off.
Even if that person is—
Shasha.
---
“Finally.”
The word is light, almost playful.
Gorya looks up—and there she is.
Closer now.
Too close.
Shasha tilts her head slightly, eyes scanning Gorya like she’s trying to figure something out. Not in a rude way. Not exactly.
Just… curious.
“You’re new,” Shasha says.
It’s not a question.
Gorya keeps her expression neutral. “Assistant stylist.”
“Hm.” A small smile tugs at Shasha’s lips. “You don’t look nervous.”
“I’m not.”
That earns her a raised brow.
Interesting.
Shasha leans forward just a little, resting her chin on her hand. “Most people are.”
“I’m not most people.”
The silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable.
It’s charged.
Then—
Shasha smiles.
Slow. Amused.
“I like that.”
Gorya doesn’t respond. She simply unzips the garment bag, carefully pulling out the outfit assigned for the shoot.
Focus.
Do your job.
That’s it.
“You’re serious,” Shasha hums, watching her. “That’s kind of rare here.”
“I’m working.”
“And I’m not?”
Gorya glances at her then—just briefly. “You are.”
“But?” Shasha presses.
There’s something about the way she asks—like she already knows there *is* a but.
Gorya exhales softly. “You just don’t look like you need to try.”
A beat.
Then—
Shasha laughs.
Not offended.
Not even surprised.
“Careful,” she says, voice dipping just slightly. “That almost sounded like a compliment.”
“It wasn’t.”
“Mm.” Shasha stands, stepping closer.
Closer.
Gorya doesn’t move.
Doesn’t step back.
But she feels it—the shift. The way the air tightens just a little.
Shasha reaches out, fingers brushing lightly against the fabric Gorya is holding. “So what is it, then?”
“A statement.”
“And what statement is that?”
Gorya meets her eyes fully now.
Steady.
Unwavering.
“That you don’t have to try,” she says, “because everyone already gives you what you want.”
There’s a flicker of something in Shasha’s expression.
Quick.
Gone just as fast.
“Is that what you think?” she asks quietly.
Gorya shrugs. “It’s what I see.”
Another silence.
Different this time.
Heavier.
Then Shasha steps back, clapping her hands once—light, easy, like nothing just happened.
“Alright,” she says, turning slightly. “Let’s see if you’re as good as you sound.”
Gorya nods once.
Professional.
Controlled.
But as she starts preparing the outfit, she can feel it.
Shasha’s gaze.
Still on her.
The shoot takes hours.
Outfit changes. Camera flashes. Adjustments.
Through it all, Gorya does her job.
Efficient.
Precise.
Distant.
And yet—
Every time she steps in to fix something—smooth a sleeve, adjust a collar—she feels it again.
That attention.
That focus.
Like Shasha isn’t just letting her work—
She’s watching her.
Studying her.
And Gorya doesn’t like that.
Not because it’s uncomfortable.
But because—
It’s distracting.
“Hey.”
Gorya looks up from her kit.
The set is quieter now. Most of the crew is packing up.
Shasha stands a few steps away, already changed out of her shoot outfit, dressed casually now—but somehow still looking like she belongs under lights.
“You didn’t mess up,” Shasha says.
Gorya blinks. “That was the goal.”
A small smile.
“I meant,” Shasha continues, stepping closer again, “you’re good.”
“Thank you.”
Simple.
Straight.
But Shasha doesn’t leave.
Instead, she tilts her head again, studying her in that same way.
“What?”
Gorya frowns slightly.
Shasha smiles.
“You really don’t like me, do you?”
The question is teasing.
But there’s something underneath it.
Gorya considers it for a moment.
Then—
“I don’t know you.”
Shasha’s smile softens.
“Then maybe,” she says quietly, “you should.”
Gorya shakes her head, already turning back to her things. “I’m here to work.”
“Work can be fun.”
“I’m not here for fun.”
A pause.
Then, softer—
“Pity.”
Gorya doesn’t respond.
But as she walks away, she can feel it again.
That pull.
That attention.
That something—
Unwanted.
Unnecessary.
And somehow—
Unavoidable.
Shasha watches her leave.
For a long moment.
Longer than she should.
Then she exhales softly, a small smile forming on her lips.
“Interesting,” she murmurs.
Because for the first time in a long time—
Someone didn’t fall at her feet.
And for some reason—
That makes her want to chase.