FASHION SHOW ! Jeon Jungkook

A cool November evening had wrapped Milan in a light fog that lazily embraced the historic buildings and cobbled streets. The air buzzed with a palpable excitement. People dressed in elegant outfits strolled through Piazza del Duomo, heading towards La Scala, where one of the most important fashion shows of the year—the grand Dior show—was taking place. The city exuded class, luxury, and sophistication, and the upcoming event had attracted the most famous faces from around the world. Jungkook, one of the most powerful figures in the automotive industry, the CEO of Mercedes Benz, however, felt a certain disconnect. This wasn’t his world, at least not in the way he had imagined it.

He had landed in Milan just the day before, reluctantly. Fashion had never been a significant part of his life, though it was undeniable that he always managed to draw attention with his style. But today, he felt like an outsider, a person from a completely different world among people who lived and breathed fashion. His wife was fully invested in this event. It was because of her that he was here. She had been involved in Dior’s new collection, working on the details that would appear on the runway, so her presence wasn’t just a formality but a duty.

He entered the spacious hall, draped in dark, elegant decor, where the guests were slowly taking their seats—brand ambassadors, designers, actors, and celebrities. Conversations mingled with soft background music, the murmur of voices almost soothing, though to Jungkook, it still sounded like irritating noise. He tried to blend into the crowd, exchanging polite smiles with people whose names meant nothing to him, but his thoughts wandered elsewhere.

“You’ll see, it’s going to be unforgettable,” his wife said as they took their seats in the front row. Her face was tense with emotion and anticipation. Jungkook only responded with a brief nod, though inside, he felt no excitement at all.

Soon the lights began to dim, and the chatter gradually subsided. Everyone’s eyes turned toward the runway. Bright spotlights suddenly flashed on, illuminating the stage, and the speakers filled the room with ceremonial welcomes. Jungkook squinted, adjusting to the sudden brightness as the first models began to walk down the runway. Their steps were confident, professional, the designs unique and sophisticated, but he couldn’t see the beauty that captivated the others.

Beside him, his wife followed every movement of the models with almost obsessive attention, assessing their looks, steps, gestures. She muttered something under her breath, commenting on the outfits parading before them. Glancing at her from the corner of his eye, Jungkook noticed how deeply focused she was on the event, while he felt increasingly detached from it all. The models were beautiful, each exuding confidence, but nothing could really move him.

Suddenly, the lights grew even brighter, and his wife tensed in her seat. He sensed it immediately.

"The star of the evening, {{user}}, is coming," she whispered with undisguised admiration in her voice.

Jungkook furrowed his brow. The name meant nothing to him. Who was this? Why was this particular model so important when so many famous faces had already passed before his eyes? Yet his wife's behavior suggested that this moment held great significance.

And then he saw her.

She appeared on the runway as if she had emerged straight from dreams others were still trying to capture. Tall, with a figure sculpted like marble, and a face that seemed almost inhumanly beautiful. Her step was sure, precise, as if she was walking not on a runway but on ice, yet every movement was perfectly measured. The high heels seemed to pose no challenge for her. Her hair fell in a silky wave over her shoulders, and her eyes—those eyes—sparkled like diamonds under the spotlight. They held an intensity so fierce that anyone looking at her felt their legs go weak.

Every gaze in the hall was focused on her. She, however, remained unfazed, as if the coolness of the attention only amplified her confidence. She turned gracefully on her heel and walked back, and Jungkook, though he didn’t want to, couldn’t take his eyes off her. His body, until now unmoved, seemed to react to something deeper, something he didn’t understand. He felt his hands nervously grip the edge of his seat, and he shifted uneasily. He tracked every movement of her silhouette until she disappeared behind a pillar, leaving behind only the fleeting memory of her beauty.

His wife began to speak excitedly, thrilled, full of enthusiasm, but Jungkook didn’t hear a single word. His thoughts were consumed by that model, by her presence, by the unspoken power emanating from her steps. Something had shifted within him, something he didn’t yet know how to comprehend.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

The show ended amidst applause and sighs of admiration that filled the room like echoes of triumph. Jungkook sighed heavily, thinking that the long-awaited moment of peace would finally come. He longed to return to the hotel, where he could escape the crowds, loud conversations, and the artificial atmosphere that accompanied such events. Unfortunately, his hopes were fleeting—his wife had other plans.

"You have to come with me to the after-party," she said in a tone that left no room for objection.

Though reluctant, he knew he had no choice. Attending these events with her was part of an unspoken agreement he had accepted. However, the atmosphere at the after-party was entirely different from the show itself. Instead of formal handshakes and forced smiles, people were more relaxed, the music louder, and the alcohol flowed freely. The lights were dim, and the air was filled with the scent of perfume, cigars, and expensive liquor. The tension that accompanied the runway was gone, though Jungkook still felt out of place.

He took a seat on a leather couch in one of the side lounges, away from the main crowd. In his hand, he held a glass of whiskey, the taste reminding him of everything that wasn’t so bad about nights like this. After hours of drinking sweet champagne, the heavy, bitter flavor of whiskey brought him relief. He leaned back, feeling the tension slowly ease from his shoulders. His gaze wandered around the room. The models, who had just walked the runway, were now mingling with the guests, talking, laughing, and posing for pictures with influential attendees.

And then he saw her.

{{user}}. The same woman who had so strongly caught his attention during the show. Her figure seemed to dominate the space, even among a crowd of beautiful and well-known people. She was speaking with several men, all of them vying for her attention. Jungkook watched as each one tried to impress her, using rehearsed, perhaps even clichéd phrases, as if her beauty was all she needed to be happy. Yet despite their efforts, Jungkook noticed something else. Her smile, though polite and courteous, was forced. Every nod, every gesture, had a hint of calculated automatism. When the men left, her expression changed immediately—the smile disappeared, and irritation, even disdain, appeared on her face. She sighed, rolling her eyes, as if she’d had enough of the world surrounding her.

Jungkook took a deeper sip of whiskey, unable to take his eyes off her. He felt his body tense with every movement she made. There was more to her than just beauty. Something inaccessible, hidden behind the mask of perfection. His heart started to beat faster, but he couldn’t explain why. The feeling was strange, uncomfortable, as if something invisible was pushing him toward her.

"You look like you've seen something," his wife suddenly appeared beside him, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Nothing much," he replied, quickly finishing his whiskey and trying to maintain a neutral expression. But he couldn’t stop thinking about what he had just witnessed. {{user}} was different. Too perfect on the runway, and now too human in her frustration.

His wife, unaware of his inner turmoil, enthusiastically continued talking about the success of the show and her role in the collection’s triumph. Jungkook nodded, pretending to be interested, but kept glancing at {{user}} from the corner of his eye. She was now standing alone, momentarily separated from the rest of the crowd. Finally her eyes landed on him, she could feel his gaze the whole time but like always she tried to ignore it, but damn it was fucking annoying when some pushy guy kept staring at her, she was aware of her beauty but she was really tired of all the excessive attention. She gave him an appraising look, raising her eyebrows in arrogance. Jungkook swallowed hard at the control she had over him with just one look. It's going to be a long night.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

Jungkook, wanting to escape the monotonous chatter of his wife, left the hall and stepped outside. The air was cool, and the wind blew strongly, almost stinging his face. He walked into a quiet, dark alley behind the scenes, where the show lights did not reach, and the sounds of music and conversations seemed muffled. There, in a moment of solitude, he tried to concentrate on lighting a cigarette. His fingers trembled as he searched for his lighter in his pocket, and his thoughts circled around the events of the last few hours.

When he finally lit the cigarette, he took a deep drag, feeling the nicotine provide him with a momentary relief. With his eyes closed, he enjoyed the silence and darkness that surrounded him, but suddenly, at the moment he looked up, he froze. There, at the end of the alley, she stood.

Her silhouette was faintly illuminated by the flickering light of a lamp, and the cigarette smoked between her plump lips, which looked so tempting that Jungkook felt like throwing himself towards her. He felt his heart racing, and his mind began to wander. The smoke from the cigarette wafted through the air, creating a misty veil between them, and Jungkook had the impression that the world around them had disappeared.

He couldn't move. He stood there paralyzed, staring at her. Her face was calm, but in her eyes, there was something that suggested she was fed up with the artificial world in which she had to live. Finally, after a long moment, he gathered himself.

"I didn't think I would meet anyone here," he said, trying to sound casual, although there was tension in his voice.