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Modelling and Idol work typically didn’t have much crossover. Sure, an Idol could have a High Fashion photoshoot and a Model could be cajoled into participating in Idol activities such as attending variety shows, meet and greets and the like but typically, the models and idols themselves wouldn’t interact too much. Much less a High Fashion Runway Model and the current most Popular ex-boyband Idol.
So Nice wasn’t sure what to expect when he was told by his manager, Miss J, about the photoshoot collaboration he’ll be doing that day with one of Treeman’s idols. He waves away the make-up artists' wandering hands; his face already did most of the heavy lifting anyway, turning to his manager with an eyebrow quirked in question.
“His name is Lin Ling, though his stage name is known as The Commoner,” Nice holds back a snort at the name, leave it to Shang De to have absolutely no imagination when it comes to stage names. It’s how Nice got shackled with “Mr Perfect” anyway. “You’ll be shooting with him today.”
That catches his attention, aquamarine eyes narrowing in annoyance. Nice preferred to work alone, citing his own personal preferences as the reason when questioned but it really was because no one had been able to live up to his high expectations except himself.
“That still doesn’t answer my question, Miss J, why am I doing this?” Nice adjusts the cuffs of his silk shirt idly, turning the button this way and that until he deems it acceptable. He levels his manager with a curious gaze, it wasn’t like her to beat around the bush like this, usually preferring to give Nice all the facts so he can perform each given task perfectly.
The older woman hesitates, manicured hands tightening on her copy of the schedule before she lets out a soft sigh.
“It’s sort of a rebrand image Treeman is going for,” Nice frowns but Miss J continues before he could comment, “After your scandal with Moon, there have been some brands that seem… hesitant to work with you, so this collaboration is an attempt to make you seem more-”
“Mediocre? Desperate?” Nice cuts in as he laughs, a bitter thing, unable to hold back his displeasure at the reminder of his recent headaches. It was a good thing, their public break up, both him and Moon weren’t working out anyway and they were hardly compatible, but the way the break up had spiraled out of control to the point that poor Moon had to take an indefinite hiatus just for the media storm to die down was unfair.
Nice may not have liked Moon very much on the account of her being the most barbaric and irritating woman he’d ever had the displeasure to meet and play fake couple with, but he still had some sympathy for a fellow model getting the short end of the stick for something she didn’t even have any control over.
Looks like it was Nice’s turn to receive his due punishment despite it being over a month ago now.
“It’s to make you seem more approachable, brand-friendly and relatable.” Miss J corrects with a frown, lips pulled into a thin line as she regards Nice like an exasperated parent and her misbehaving child who’d been caught red handed with his hand in the cookie jar. “Nice, this would be good for your PR-”
Nice scoffs, waving a delicate hand to dismiss Miss J’s comment.
“Whatever you say, I’m just your little puppet to do as you please, it’s not like my opinion matters or anything,” Nice shouldn’t be taking out his frustrations on his innocent manager, but he was tired and frankly, babysitting an idol through a high stress situation was not on his laundry list of things to do today. Or any other day for that matter.
But whatever the boss said goes, and Nice is only too happy to oblige, or at least he needed to seem like it anyway. He sighs, shoulders slumping slightly before he catches himself in the mirror and straightens. He turns back to Miss J who regards him with a cool if slightly wary gaze as he smiles, all perfect white teeth and symmetrical.
“So? What is the agenda for the day?”
-
The Commoner was late. Nice resists the urge to sigh, he had a sinking feeling that this would happen. Idols tended to run overtime on their programs with barely any regard for how the shift in timing would affect others, and it seemed this new guy was not immune to the tendency for tardiness. Thankfully, the photoshoot was the final assignment for the day and Nice would be free to go once it’s over so he can’t be too annoyed.
He was still annoyed though, he hated wasting time when he could be doing something more productive.
The model crosses his legs, picking off a stray piece of lint from his black slacks with a frown, tossing it carelessly to the ground as he laces his fingers together to tap an impatient rhythm on the back of his hand. He puffs out an impatient breath of air to further push back a strand of hair intent on falling into his eyes, when the doors of the studio finally burst open.
“I’m so sorry I’m late! The program ran a little over and I had to stay behind to help out!” The snarky comment Nice had rehearsed in his head for the past ten minutes did not make it past his lips as he turned to face the most adorable man he’d ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on.
Nice had no interest in social media and preferred to keep whatever socials he had on private most of the time, limited only to a handful of colleagues and friends, so this was the first time he’d ever seen the Commoner ever. And boy, does the man ever live up to the hype surrounding his name.
Lithe but slightly blocky with muscles (no doubt from dance training) cutting a rather masculine silhouette in a form fitting muscle shirt and baggy jeans with a stylish bomber jacket tied around the waist, brown hair that curled adorably at the ends with a curious white streak in the middle of his bangs. His face was boyish but not artificially so, charming with wide amber brown eyes sparkling with panic and adrenaline as sweat dripped down from his forehead.
The younger man probably ran all the way here from the other set judging from his dishevelled appearance, how cute. He always did have a fondness for pretty things and the Commoner was quite the pretty one.
Nice leans into a propped up hand, regarding the younger man with a hooded gaze as he hides an interested smirk in his palm. The Commoner doesn’t seem to notice his colleague’s staring and makes a quick beeline straight to the photographer and director of the shoot, no doubt babbling apologies and excuses before shooting off quickly to hair and make up. Seems to at least have a sense of responsibility, his opinion of the younger man increasing slightly.
Points still deducted for being late though.
The other man’s manager arrives shortly after, taking in heaving gulps of air as sweat poured down his face and stained his shirt, his arms laden with gifts and flowers intended for the Commoner which he hurriedly takes towards the younger man’s trailer. Nice wrinkles his nose in disgust, letting out a soft scoff as he turns away from the sight.
Only to be swiftly rewarded with a breathtaking view of the Commoner stepping out onto the floor, some staff even stopping in their tracks to ogle. There was a natural draw to him as an idol, much like a brightly coloured flower amidst a sea of grey but it was accentuated much more with clever eyeshadow and strategic blush. The younger man looked like he’d stepped out of a daytime drama as the second lead. The main lead of course would be Nice, but that was to be expected.
Hm, Nice’s eyes roved the younger idol’s form appreciatively. Nice had his fair share of beauties and handsome faces but there was just something about the Commoner that drew him in.
The Commoner’s outfit for the day was a direct parallel to Nice’s own, with a simple, tailored monochrome suit; classic and made to fit like a glove, hugging the younger man’s curves in all the right places. It complimented Nice’s own fully white evening apparel; loose flowing shirt with the front ties laced up just enough to call attention to his exposed chest and cinched dress pants that flared just slightly at the ends. Ethereal and grounded, air and earth, they made for a good looking pair as polar opposites or mirror images.
Which was exactly what the photographer was looking for if the squeal of delight was any indication, the woman immediately flocking to the Commoner’s side to shower the younger idol with praise and an abundance of compliments. The Commoner dressed like he could attend an evening Gala while Mr Perfect simply threw on whatever was in his closet yet still looked sinfully good. What an attractive pair they made.
Nice made his way towards the set, a soft grin tugging at his lips as the Commoner met him halfway, finally breaking free from the photographer’s excited ramblings. Their eyes meet, amused aquamarine and warm amber brown.
What isn’t expected is the outright hostility that floods the Commoner’s gaze, which sharpened upon meeting his own aquamarine eyes. The Commoner huffs, turning away from the older man and stomps towards the displayed lounge chair on set, leaving Nice frozen where he was before a delighted grin spreads across his features as he is snubbed.
How interesting.
The Commoner doesn’t deign him with so much as a glance as he moves exactly how the photographer wants him with surprising accuracy and minimal instruction, smiling brightly at each request. Not to be outdone in his own craft, Nice takes a soft breath before he snaps into work mode.
Time to show the rookie how it was done.
-
The shoot was over before Nice could comprehend it, the ending pose resulting in him lying down on the Commoner’s lap whilst the idol leaned back with his arm draped across the backing of the lounge chair. Nice could feel his hair fall into his eyes right as the urge to fix it comes immediately to him, causing him to stiffen slightly.
He tries to ignore the urge, but for whatever reason, it was particularly loud at the moment, screaming at him to fix it. Nice tries to subtly shift in a way that allows for his face to still be seen and shove the strand of hair back behind his ear to no avail.
The movement goes unnoticed by mostly everyone, save for the man whose lap he is currently occupying. He can feel the Commoner’s questioning gaze on him which was a lot more attention than what the younger man had been giving him in the full length of the photoshoot.
Nice can’t bring himself to delight in his attentions at the moment, the persistent urge to fix his perfect image before it is ruined screaming at him and he can’t hear himself think as he is frozen in his own self-inflicted paralysis-
A shadow falls upon his face, shielding Nice from the harsh glare of the lights overhead for a moment before a gentle touch drags the damned stray strand away from his eyes, tucking it tenderly back behind the older man’s ear, careful not to disturb the rest of Nice’s meticulously styled hair. The click of a camera shutter going off shocks Nice out of his reverie, his body physically flinching. The Commoner is already looking ahead and laughing as the photographer talks animatedly about the pictures.
The Commoner doesn’t acknowledge the kind gesture he just did. Going right back to pretending Nice doesn’t exist, as if the older man in his lap isn’t worth a single iota of his attention.
Nice frowns. He’ll need to have a talk with the Commoner after this, perhaps enlist Miss J’s help to move things in the Commoner’s schedule so that he can take his time later. Usually other managers wouldn’t be allowed this privilege, but as Treeman’s top money-maker and first talent to put them on the map, he’d earned it.
But first, he needed to finish the shoot, so his mask slid back on for just another moment. He misses the slightly concerned look the Commoner graces him, before the younger man turns back to the waiting camera, following Nice’s example as a stoic mask slid back into place.
-
“Here, you looked like you needed it,” Nice didn’t mean to stare; he’d been the subject of many adoring gazes or hateful, envious glares so he would know how uncomfortable it was to be stared down. But he couldn’t help it, not when the Commoner looked so stupidly earnest and sincere while offering Nice what seemed to be a bite-sized piece of chocolate. It was a heavily guarded secret that Nice had a weakness for sweets, so the Commoner couldn’t have known but some part of Nice’s heart warmed at the kind gesture.
It looked like he didn’t need Miss J to intervene this time, seeing as the Commoner had sought him out of his own accord.
This man was so unrelentingly kind, even when he clearly disliked Nice if the snub during the shoot was any indication, it almost hurt to be on the receiving end of such unfiltered earnest kindness.
“I thought you hated me?” Nice tried for a more light hearted tone, but winced as it came out more accusing than he’d intended, taking the offered chocolate before the Commoner could rescind the offer from his rudeness.
The Commoner scrunches his nose in distaste much like a disgruntled rabbit, emotions still written plainly on his face despite the three years in the industry that should have trained it out of him. The Entertainment business was cut throat and would not allow a moment’s weakness, it seemed the Commoner was the exception to this rule. Nice was glad for it, his fingers tracing the wrapper absently, it was even his favourite brand of chocolate.
Dammit.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way…” Nice sighs, placing the treat onto his dresser, hidden just behind a bouquet of flowers he’d received from an anonymous fan. He’ll get to it later, when Miss J isn’t around to nag him for consuming excess calories, screw the diet, he’d earned at least this much after the hellish month he’d been through.
“Thank you,” Nice gestures towards the chocolate, a small unguarded smile tracing his lips as he regards the Commoner’s confused tilt of his head, brown bangs falling into his face which the younger man brushes away carelessly. “I’m quite the picky eater, and this is one of my favourites, so thank you.”
He really shouldn’t be elaborating. The Commoner may be in a different industry than him but word of mouth travels fast, and if it ever got out that he had a weakness, a chink in his Perfect armour he’d be done for. But… When faced with such earnest care and concern for his well being, he couldn’t help but want to be slightly vulnerable. Tit for tat and matching energies or something.
The Commoner doesn’t comment for a beat, staring at Nice in a quizzical manner as if he was a puzzle that the Commoner was trying to figure out. The younger man frowns before he seems to catch himself and simply shrugs, feigning nonchalance. Cute, Nice thinks to himself with a soft smile.
“It’s no big deal really, though…” the Commoner hesitates, only continuing when Nice raises a questioning eyebrow.
“Why did you and Moon break up?” Nice blinks. That was a question he wasn’t expecting, not from the Commoner at least. His eyes narrow in suspicion, his most recent scandal was more than a month ago now, mere embers that flare up once in a while when a gossip column mentions it but otherwise, most other people have long since moved on to the next big scandal. Did the Commoner have an ulterior motive with this loaded question?
The Commoner seemed to come to the same conclusion as Nice almost simultaneously, waving his hands as if to show his harmless intent.
“Oh, I don’t mean anything by it, really! I’m just- you’ve been together for years so I’m just curious and-” The Commoner cuts himself off from his ramblings, pursing his lips into a thin line and Nice can’t help but let his eyes flick to where a tongue peeks out to swipe across the lips, wetting them with a thin shine.
“I’ve been… a fan of you guys for a while and- your break up caused Moon to take an indefinite hiatus and I know it's not your fault but she deserved better than what she got and-” Nice stares at the blundering man before him, eyes widened with shock before they soften with affection.
Seeing the Commoner so passionately defend one of his own colleagues was quite… endearing. In such a breakneck industry, the Commoner truly was the exception in every sense of the word.
Nice waits patiently for the Commoner to be done with his panicked ramblings, a teasing smirk upon his lips as he rests his head on a propped up arm on the handles of his styling chair.
“Are you a fan of Moon? You talk about her so flatteringly,” he teases, a slight undercurrent of envy towards the barbaric woman that had been his fake girlfriend for three years. Ah well, Moon would be happy to know he’d run into a fan of hers in the idol department, some good news is rather overdue. “Did you get into this industry just for her?”
The Commoner flushes red, and mumbles something under his breath that Nice couldn’t quite catch. It would explain why he treated Nice the way he did; although the break up was very much mutual on both ends, blame was always laid on the person who initiated the break up, not on the poor victim who had been broken up with.
“I got into this industry for you.”
The admission, repeated for Nice’s ears to finally catch, caused the older model to snap his head towards the younger idol. The Commoner was bright red, trembling slightly from either embarrassment or adrenaline, Nice wasn’t sure.
“For me?” He could only echo dumbly, shocked again for the third time that evening. The Commoner sure was full of surprises, he hadn’t expected it. Nice turns away, heart thudding loudly in his chest as an unfamiliar heat blooms across his cheeks.
It wasn’t often that Nice got flustered, usually maintaining a stoic and aloof air about him even in situations that would have others panicking. But it seems the Commoner is more than capable of rendering one of the most popular Runway Models of the season into a blushing mess.
The silence stretches on for a bit, before the Commoner awkwardly mumbles out an excuse and pivots on his heel, intent to hurriedly escape from this mortifying situation no doubt. But Nice’s hand shoots out, unbidden.
He grasps the younger idol’s wrist, careful not to squeeze too hard but also in a firm grip that would be hard to shake off. The Commoner whirls around to face him. Wide amber brown eyes reflecting inclusions of confusion and mild trepidation.
Nice swallows, his throat suddenly dry as he tries his best to come up with an excuse why he’d stopped the younger man from retreating. Nice isn’t fully sure himself, just that he’d be damned if he didn’t secure at least another meeting with this man. He spots his phone, laying forgotten on the dresser table and inspiration hits him.
“I’m treating you to dinner, can I have your number?”