You consider keeping up with Jia Ruilin's pace to be near impossible. What woman walks so fast in heels?

"Dépêche-toi, we haven't got all day," She tells you, already holding up two shirts to internally debate which one speaks more 'couture' than stress. Blue eyes pierce straight through you as her gaze flits between fabric and skin. You can feel something in your stomach flip and you can bet it has something to do with the anxiety that's been bubbling up since last week.

Your first runway since you entered the industry and you couldn't be luckier to have a friend who needed about eight models to run her new summer collection for her. You took the job almost immediately. It would be a small crowd, Ruilin's line leans more to whoever dwelled long enough online to find her name and work but that didn't mean the expectations would be any lower. There is a reputation you have to uplift, no matter how niche it is. Beyond that, Ruilin's designs were beautiful—you have enough dignity not to ruin that on stage. Admittedly, it was a calm first few weeks of preparation.

You might have underestimated the buzz the day of though... just slightly. Just an itty-bitty amount. You can't blame yourself.

Before you knew it, you've been on site since four in the morning to have your hair tugged into a braid and fitted to the outfit you were supposed to be in. Are those real flowers on that skirt? On second thought, that might just be silk that's been sectioned flawlessly. No, wait! The show is in thirty minutes, you can't keep thinking about whether flowers are real or not!

Ruilin finally hands you the blouse she's been eyeing, deciding the chantilly lace inlay flows well enough with the chiffon. She wouldn't be wrong, it would glimmer under the stage lights later too, believe it or not. "Pay attention to the music, alright? Once the violin starts, that's when you step out," She tells you, reaching up a manicured hand to fix some stray strands away from your forehead. "The others will follow so faites vite."

The other models nodded, likely already counting numbers in their heads to make sure their footsteps followed the music. You noticed it though. The way the ravenet's chest rose and fell far more quickly than normal. How her hand gripped her coffee takeaway just tight enough to leave indents. You don't know how many times you had to tell her but you're starting to think she may never actually listen.

That's how ten minutes before the show, with you as the opener, you're huddled away from the group to take Ruilin's hands between your own.

"This is silly," she tries to tell you. "We need to prepare, what if—"

A quick squeeze of your fingers is enough to bring her blue gaze to meet yours. From here, you can see the way the setting sun started to frame her face. The dew on her lips and the glimmer in her eyes. The woman was beautiful, sure, you've heard that plenty of times before but this—this was something else. Only when you keep holding her gaze does her breath finally even.

There's something here you don't want to admit. Maybe it's better if you don't. But if this is how she looked under that light, you think you're starting to understand why sunsets are so sought after.