Chapter Text
If someone asked whether the devil could disguise herself as a human, the answer would be yes, and her name would be Miranda Priestley.
This was nothing new to the Runway staff, they knew Miranda is diabolically strict. Or cruel.
They tried so hard to please Miranda that it seemed a single dissaproving gaze from her could affect their self-esteem. The office would spring into action when ever they knew Miranda was coming. Everyone would fix their clothes, retouch their makeup, check their work, anything to avoid getting any snarky comments from Miranda.
Emily Charlton was not an exception.
For roughly three years she had proudly carried the title of Miranda's assistant. Emily knew people would kill to be in her place. Either she was awfully obedient, or she was merely thirsty for praises from Miranda's mouth.
Everything was perfect.
Emily had spent three years to get in that point, polishing everything until she shone brighter than the others. When she became the first assistant, she was unstoppable. People looked at her with mix of envy and fear. Emily had loved every second of it, obviously. People would kill for her job, after all.
It was perfect before Andrea came.
Andrea Sachs, Emily didn't even know how to start with her. Andrea's name still left a bitter taste in her mouth. From the very first day Andrea stepped her foot in Runway, her days had begun to tilt. Emily remembered it as clear as crystal.
She remembered the way Andrea had stumbled over her own feet when she tried to match Emily's steps, clutching that hideous tote bag like her life depended on it, clothes hanging on her frame as if they had been chosen with her eyes closed. That cerulean blue sweater looked cheap and offensive under Runway's lights.
Emily genuinely offended every time Andrea dared to show up with mismatched clothes and ridiculous color combination in a fashion magazine office.
Emily couldn't even count how many times she dragged Serena with her at lunch just to gossip about Andrea's choice of clothing that day. They didn't really care if someone heard them gossiping. Probably the whole building knew about Andrea's clothing issues.
Anyone who didn't know her would say she was obsessed. But no, Emily Charlton simply couldn't stand Andrea Sachs.
Andrea didn't belong here, she didn't even care fashion. She was an outsider who had somehow slipped through the crack.
Then, the day came.
Andrea walked into their office dressed head-to-toe in Chanel, even wearing their pair of thigh-high leather stiletto boots that made an expensive sound against the floor.
The transformation was sudden enough that it felt like a personal insult. Emily could feel something unpleasant twist inside her when she saw Andrea that day. And the day after. And the day after that.
It was like a different person, even her stumbling steps was gone. Andrea no longer looked like an impostor among the astonishing staff.
It was awful, how the ugly feeling of jealousy flared inside her chest. Andrea got so good at this job. Annoyingly good. She was getting better at reading Miranda. Better than her, in ways Emily refused to name out loud.
Only the thing inside her bedroom knew she cried the day Miranda started throwing her coat at her desk instead of Andrea's, how the morning coffee became her responsibility. Again. She wasn't supposed to be the one running around in the morning for Miranda's coffee anymore. She was supposed to be the first assistant.
She had pressed her face into her pillow that night, hating herself for the tears. Hating Andrea even more for being the reason of it.
But it was fine, she was in her room, no one knew about it anyway.
Emily prepared herself for Paris Fashion Week the way she prepared for every important thing. She forced herself to not eat for days, surviving on black coffee and low cals food, determined to maintain the kind of skinny that photographed well on the pictures.
And then that goddamned taxi crashed into her.
One moment she was stepping off the curb while on the phone with Andrea, the next she was on the ground with fabrics scattered across the road. Pain exploding through her leg she couldn't even scream properly.
They rushed her to the hospital without giving her any other options. The doctor told her she needed to eat properly if she wanted to heal quickly, and the words felt like a jab to her ribs.
When Andrea came to her room with that stupid puppy eyes filled with something that looked like pity, Emily already wanted to snap, and then she told her that Miranda chose her to accompany her to Paris.
Emily was furious, the kind of fury that sat in the throat and made it hard to breathe. It was her worst day in a long time. Her leg broken by a taxi and now this. Everything she wanted was being handed to the new girl who had once worn that ugly cerulean sweater.
Emily swore she wouldn't forgive Andrea.
Though, if she was being honest with herself, it was just because she had a bad day.
And today she returned to work with a crutch.
The journey from her apartment to the Elias-Clarke building was humiliating. Emily Charlton did not wobble. However, her leg..
Her movement were awfully careful, not wanting to hurt her already broken leg. She should've rest, but duty called and Emily didn't want Miranda to hate her any more than she already did. Resting meant Miranda might realize there's no significant difference when Emily was gone and it threatened her position.
Emily would rather jump over and over again on a scattered piece of glass with her broken leg than let that happen.
Emily never thought on stepping into the elevator could be this embarrassing. Even the usual morning rush of Runway staff parted for her out of pity, Emily could see it on their faces. Emily's jaw clenched so hard she could feel her teeth ached when the corner of her eye caught a junior editor glancing at her cast with a symphatetic smile.
However, she managed to made her way down the hallway, the thwack-thump of her crutch against the floor sounded too loud with a hint of clumsiness.
As she approached the main door of the office, she paused. Opening it required balance she currently didn't have due to her leg, it would hurt so bad when she accidentally put a weight on it.
She awkwardly wedge her shoulder against the glass as she pushed the door to the office open with struggle. And then Andrea ran toward her, helping Emily with holding the door open.
"Morning, Em," Andrea said with that infuriating smile on her face just like usual. She looked so fresh after her days in Paris. She didn't even look exhausted or jet-lagged.
"Oh, great," Emily practically spat, shuffling past Andrea without a single glance. "Here comes the Paris person. Bonjour I guess." Emily dropped her bag on the desk harsher than necessary.
She quickly busied herself, aggressively waking her computer to arranging pens. She could feel Andrea lingering near her desk. The unwanted presence made her even more grumpy.
How could she not? The person she currently hated was standing near her with those stupid face.
"Emily," Andrea walked toward Emily's desk, Emily could see a hint of guilt on Andrea's face. "Come on, I'm so sorry," Andrea continued, either she wanted to make up or wanted to piss her off even more.
"Shut up," Emily snapped. Anger quickly building inside her chest. How dare Andrea bring it up again? It felt like Andrea was crushing Emily's already broken leg with that yellow cab over and over again.
Andrea was quiet for a moment before she opened her mouth, "I brought something," her voice was quiet. "I'm giving all the Paris clothes to you."
Emily stared at her, the words didn't compute inside her head. "What?"
"The clothes from Paris?" Andrea repeated, gesturing to a pile of garment bags resting on her own desk. "I want you to have them."
Emily narrowed her eyes, scanning Andrea's face for the trap. She tried to catch any microexpression of mockery. People didn't just give away those designer clothes from Paris Fashion Week out of goodness of their hearts. Especially not to someone who had made their life a living hell for months.
"You're mocking me, aren't you?" Emily's voice was defensive.
"No! No, I swear, Em," Andrea shook her head, grabbing the garment bags before returned near Emily's desk. "I just want us to be friends."
Emily stared at her face for a moment longer, letting the silence filled the office air. She noticed Andrea's hands were still clasped in front of her, her face so painfully sincere that Emily almost felt bad for doubting her intentions. Almost.
"You just want to give them to me?" Emily asked, her tone changed from aggressive to suspicious.
Andrea nodded, "They're yours if you want."
Emily glanced at the garment bags hanging from Andrea's arm. Chanel, Prada, or Valentino, Emily could guess. Those are the things Emily had starved herself for, now casually being offered to her by the woman who had taken the opportunity she had been working for weeks.
It should have felt insulting, but the way Andrea looked at her.. she was being honest. The thought slipped off her mind.
Well, those clothes was supposed to be hers anyway.
"Why?" Emily finally asked after a few seconds of silence.
Andrea shrugged, "Because I don't need all of them, and I know how much Paris meant to you, and I want us to be friends?"
Emily couldn't help but soften before she could stop herself. She had spent a miserable week laying on her bed doing nothing. A single moment of kindness could melt the wall she had built around her heart just a little bit.
"You're so annoying," Emily looked away.
A small smile appeared on Andrea's face. She adjusted the garment bags, putting it on the edge of Emily's desk. "I'll leave these here, then."
Emily nodded without saying anything.
She kept her eyes on the garment bags for a few seconds longer than necessary, her digits tapping slightly on her desk. An unexpected satisfaction settled in her chest. It wasn't exactly a happy one, more like the first relief she'd felt since the accident. The coats she had imagined wearing in Paris while lying in that hospital bed—they were hers now. Andrea had simply handed them over.
She scoffed, the sound low and automatic, and watched Andrea walk away.
The garment bags sat on her desk, Emily didn't touch them for the rest of the morning. She was busy, Miranda's schedule was a living nightmare after Paris, and her leg throbbed every time she put weight on it.
But everytime her eyes drifted to the bags, she remembered Andrea's stupid face. The words I want us to be friends kept spinning inside her head.
Friends.
Emily almost laughed.
By lunch when no one was watching her, she had already opened the first bag. A black bouclé jacket that still smelled like Paris for her. She held it up, then against herself in the reflection of the turned off computer screen in front of her. It fit perfectly. Andrea had good taste now. How annoying.
The clothes hung in her closet later that night.
There was no point leaving those good clothes at the office, after all. Or so Emily told herself as she stood in front of her closet, admiring the new additions.
Then, her phone buzzed. A text ftom Serena.
wanna drink? or ur still limping?
Emily ignored it with a quiet huff, plopped hersef onto the bed. She stared at the ceiling for several minutes. Bored. Her head kept replaying what happened today when she got those clothes.
Emily remembered something and shifted to rest her back against the headboard before opening her laptop, balancing it on her lap.
Her fingers moved across the keyboard, typing something on her browser. A blog. Andrea's. Emily knew Andrea had a personal blog from her Friendster account, she put it on her bio. It wasn't that Emily was one of Andrea's 67 friend list, she was not. Emily knew her account because the owner herself had been talking to Serena about it loudly in the hallway. Emily found Andrea's Friendster account by going through Serena's friend list.
Emily had checked her blog once before, when Andrea was choosen by Miranda to go to Paris with her. Simply because she wanted to find something ridiculous in case Andrea rants about what stupid shit she had done in Paris and gossip about it with Serena if she had time later.
Her eyes locked on the screen, reading Andrea's newest post.
Successfully delivered the clothes to Em, yay! I hope we can be friends soon enough. I really feel bad about Paris and her leg. She was still limping this morning. Get well soon, Em!
Emily stared at the screen for a moment after reading it.
So, Andrea was really sincere about it.
She simply scoffed, rolling her eyes as she closed the laptop on her lap. She carefully lay down again, staring at the ceiling like she had done for a week.
Maybe Andrea Sachs wasn't as infuriating as she'd thought.
When morning came and the sun started to show herself, Andrea was already at her desk when Emily arrived. She helped Emily with the door per usual, Emily was still using the crutch, after all.
"Morning, Em. How's the leg?" Andrea had the nerve to ask Emily about her leg.
"I don't know if you couldn't see with your eyes," Emily replied snarkily with a flat tone.
Andrea raised both hands in surrender, the smile still on her face. "Just making sure."
Emily rolled her eyes at Andrea, settled down at her desk and turned on her computer. She didn't even bother to check when Andrea walked away.
"I brought coffee for you," Andrea appeared beside her desk again, holding a paper coffee cup.
Emily looked up as Andrea placed the cup beside her files. The order was almost exactly right, the same place Emily usually stooped at on her way to work. She couldn't go there lately due to the condition of her leg, the place was always crowded.
"I heard from Serena you like that place down the road," Andrea added. "The place was actually very busy, I thought Serena was just exaggerating."
Emily's brows furrowed. Of course Serena would be so damn mouthy.
"You're not buying my forgiveness with a cup of coffee," Emily said.
"I know, I know."
She gestured her hand for Andrea to go away from her desk. The woman simply backed off, not wanting Emily to lash out.
Emily looked at the cup, specifically at the handwriting on it. Her name on the cup was misspelled, of course it was. She didn't say anything about it, just sat down and carefully sipped the still warm coffee. Pleased as her favorite order from that place ran down her throat.
The coffee became a one-time thing. At least, that was what Emily thought. So she was surprised when Andrea brought another cup the next morning. Emily never asked Andrea to do this, yet Andrea brought the coffee for her every morning.
It was also annoying when Andrea started helping her whenever she needed to move around the office. Andrea would help deliver printed files for Emily, casually volunteer herself to be the one running around to another department.
Everytime Emily struggled with a door, Andrea was there even before Emily could ask. When Emily had to carry something heavy, Andrea would wordlessly take half of it. When Emily needed to leave early for another appointment for her leg, Andrea offered to cover whatever shit Miranda might ask for.
Emily refused the first two times. On the third, her leg was throbbing badly enough that she didn't even bother arguing.
Over a month, the pattern settled like dust.
Andrea kept offering small things. Extra coffee runs, still covering when Emily had to leave early, asking careful questions about it. Emily answered most of them with sarcastic remarks or eye rolls for the first week, then a short explanation about what the doctor said, then longer sentences.
Emily also wore the clothes from Andrea, craving a smile on that infuriating face.
The conversation changed too between them.
It started when Andrea asked how long it would be before Emily could walk normally, then Andrea told Emily about the time when her father also had the similar incident. The next day, Andrea asked about Emily's life before Runway and ended up getting a not very kind mockery about being nosy. The day after that, they talked about which designer was overrated.
Even Serena noticed it too, Emily wasn't gossiping about Andrea as much as before, how her words didn't sound quite as harsh when she talked about Andrea before. At least they weren't arguing over small things anymore.
Emily also started noticing things about Andrea.
Sometimes she fidgeted with her fingers after she came back from Miranda's office. Probably because she got another round of awful words from that devil. Sometimes she spun her chair when she was bored and not having anything to do. Sometimes she yapped at her decorative plant on the desk while her eyes glues to the screen.
Emily catalouged all of it without her own consent, it wasn't her fault her desk was in front of Andrea's.
Today was another awful day for both of them, another deadline issue, and another Miranda being merciless about the immediate revised layout in the morning.
The office was quiet, the sun already gone. However, the two assistants were still perched at their desks with constant typing and Andrea whispering to her decorative plant.
It was Friday, bloody hell.
Emily was taking a small break and rubbing her forehead when she heard Andrea's phone buzz loudly on the quiet office. A phone call.
"Not now, Nate, please? I'm still working."
That caught Emily's attention.
Emily felt a familiar, sharp flare of disgust when she realized who was on the other end. They had been fighting lately, and Emily had to suffer through Andrea's pathetic attempts to overexplain herself. It was disturbing her comfortably quiet workspace.
Emily knew about her boyfriend Nate, though Andrea never mentioned him. Emily checked Andrea's blog, after all. Andrea had talked about Emily lately, and Emily just wanted to know that Andrea hadn't written any bad thing about her. That causing her to read a few things about Nate there, including Andrea's rants about him.
She was just surprised Andrea stayed with him after their massive fight before Paris.
"Promise be home before midnight, I need to— Nate?" Andrea's words cut off, she looked down at her phone. "Fuck," seems he ended the call.
Emily, who was definitely not eavesdropping, shook her head at that. She busied herself, continuing her work to not appear nosy.
"Why won't you break up with him?" Emily was irritated by herself. Why would she care anyway? It wasn't her business at all.
"It's not that easy, Em.." Andrea sighed, looking like a kicked puppy.
"Then don't sulk? It's your decision to stay miserable."
Emily's words come out sharp, she was getting tired of Andrea's fights with her boyfriend lately. Andrea would sigh and sigh. What a sore sight.
Andrea's chair creaked when she adjusted her position. There it was, the fidgeting. The office air stretched into silence once again after Emily's words ended their conversation short.
It was so quiet without Andrea whispering to her decorative plant. The stress radiating from her face was palpable, making her look small and fragile.
A strange, suffocating instinct twisted deep inside Emily's chest. It wasn't sympathy. Absolutely not.
Well, maybe she regretted her words.
On Monday, Emily looked so much fresher. She took her first unassisted step into the Runway hallway in four-inch Manolo Blahniks, feeling absolutely chic. She was finally free from the goddamned crutch, though she doctor said she wasn't supposed to wear heels yet. But what was Emily if not stubborn?
The sharp click of her heels against the polished marble drew attention from the other staff, some congratulated her healed leg. Power was back where it belonged. To her.
The morning air in the office was surprisingly good. But the moment Andrea walked in, the temperature dropped for a completely different reason. She was a mess.
Andrea looked like a failed collection that collecting dusts on the closet, her usual hair tied up in a messy bun as though she'd barely bothered with it that morning. Not to mention how her eyes were red and swollen. Even the Saint Laurent blazer couldn't hide her feelings.
Weird.
Usually Andrea would say good morning to her before perching at her desk, just like she always had every morning for the past month. Emily watched her quietly for a moment before finally starting the conversation for the first time.
"Good morning," Emily said.
"Morning," Andrea murmured, her voice sounded so raspy like she'd been crying for a whole night.
Emily paused, a strange irritation surged in her throat. Not that she cared, but Andrea looked like a kicked puppy like this. She was usually so bright, loud, and annoying. Seeing her like this was no better than looking at her misprinted page that Miranda thrown back at her face.
Emily grabbed her printed files before walking toward Andrea's desk. "You look like a mongoose," Emily said sharply, dropping the files uncharacteristic gentleness. "What happened?"
Andrea flinched slightly at the question, refusing to meet Emily's gaze. "Nate and I.. we're done, he moved his things out last night."
Shivers ran down Emily's spine. Done. That man was gone. Just like what she had told Andrea last time.
"Good," Emily couldn't help but blurt it out before she could filter her mouth.
Andrea looked up, hurt flashing in her now glossy eyes. "Em—"
"What? Don't look at me like that," Emily cut Andrea off before she could even finish. She stepped closer and leaned over Andrea's desk, her voice dropping lower than usual. "You're finally free from your problems, no one's holding you back anymore." Emily paused, then leaning back away. "You don't need him."
Andrea blinked, a trembling breath escaping her lips, "He said I changed." Andrea's tear slipped down her cheek.
"Of course you changed, look at you now. You got better." Emily said it matter-of-factly. She reached out, but immediately froze when she realized what she was about to do. Emily pulled her hand back, grabbed a box of tissues from Andrea's desk, and gave it to her instead. "Don't you dare waste a single tear on him."
Andrea let out a breathless laugh as she wiped away the tears from her face. "Thanks, Em.. I really need to hear that."
Emily's focus was split for the rest of the morning. She perfectly fulfilled Miranda's demands with no crutch that slowing her movements. Her other focus, however, was Andrea. Every sigh from her registered in Emily's head. She hated when Andrea talked to her decorative plant, but she hated it even more when Andrea didn't.
When lunch time came, the office had already thinned out the way it always did around noon and half of the staff already vanished to smoke or gossip or stand in line for salads. The lights felt harsher than usual against the sudden quietness. It felt uncomfortable for the first time.
Andrea hadn't moved from her seat. She sat at her desk with shoulders slightly slumped, staring blankly at her computer. Emily didn't hear any sound of keyboard being clicked.
Emily noticed all of it.
Emily told hersellf it was none of her business. They both have work to finish. She had no reason to care that Andrea Sachs looked devastated because she broke up with her ex. Emily had even less reason to keep glancing over her every thirty seconds.
And yet.
"Andrea."
Andrea's head lifted too quickly, "Yeah?"
"Get up," Emily was already reaching fo her bag.
"What?"
"I said get up. We're going."
Andrea blinked in confusion, still half trapped in whatever she had been thinking. "Where? I still have the revised schedule Miranda—"
"I don't care what you still have," Emily's voice came out sharper than she intended when she cut Andrea's words off. She jerked her chin toward the door. "Lunch. Now. Move."
Andrea opened her mouth, closed it, then slowly stood. Good, seems like Andrea learned that arguing with her never ended well.
They walked to the elevator in silence. Emily kept her eyes forward, jaw tight, pretending the only reason she had done this was because Andrea had a lot of typos on her files and she needed caffeine. She refused to acknowledge the way Andrea's shoulders still slumped, or the way her fingers wrapped around her bag strap tightly.
Outside, the early afternoon air was slightly colder, the light wind moved between the buildings.
Emily led the way out without explanation, her movement became so much faster and steady. Andrea followed half a step behind.
Two blocks, then three. Emily turned down a narrow side street most people from Runway never bothered with. Too far and too ordinary. She stopped in front of a small coffee shop with a handwritten menu board near the cashier. It was far too different from Emily's usual place, she was a regular there just because it looked fancy. Meanwhile, this place had a better blend anyway.
Andrea hesitated at the door, glancing up at the sign. "This is not your favorite place."
Emily shot her a sharp look, "This is the real favorite place, don't tell anyone from the office or I'll kill you."
Emily pushed inside. The barista was a woman with pierced eyebrow with bright green hair. "Welcome, like usual?"
Emily hold up two fingers, "Make it two, please, one of and those." Emily pointed at the displayed cinnamon rolls
The woman raised an eyebrow.
Andrea hovered near the counter, still so quiet.
Emily paid for their coffee and pastries before Andrea could even reach for her wallet.
"I can pay—"
"Shut up," Emily said, not harsh but enough to make Andrea took her treat. She shoved the second paper cup and cinnamon roll into Andrea's hand. "Take it."
They found a small table by the window, the one Emily always claimed when it was free. She set her own cup down, dropped into the chair. Andrea sat slowly in front of her. Both hands wrapped around the steaming hot paper cup.
Emily stared at her for a moment, then looking away when Andrea stare back. Emily looked down at her own cup, specifically at the little heart the barista had drawn in foam.
For a while, neither of them spoke. The coffee shop was almost empty, there was only an older man reading newspaper in the corner, a student with headphones near her back working on something on their laptop.
"This place is nice," Andrea started the conversation with a little smile formed on her face as she eat her cinnamon roll.
Emily scoffed, looking out the window so Andrea wouldn't see whatever expression had tried to surfaced on her face. "Of course it is, never doubt my excellent taste."
Andrea's mouth curved even wider when Emily glanced at her. The sadness was still there, but it had softened at the edges. Emily would usually look outside the window and see people walking, but now she was busy noticing the way Andrea chewing the pastry. Emily hated to admit this but her cheeks looked cute.
Emily tapped a finger against her own cup, "You got so many typos today," she said eventually, voice low enough that only Andrea could hear her. "Drink and eat, don't think too much, you look ridiculous."
Andrea glanced up to meet Emily's gaze and nodded once.
"Okay," she said as she took a sip from her coffee.
They stayed until the cups were empty and the quiet between them had settled into something less sharp. When they finally stood, Emily pretended not to notice the way Andrea waited for her to move first, matching her slower pace without comment. The walk back to the building felt shorter than the walk there.
By evening, the office had emptied the way it always did once Miranda's car pulled away from the curb. Rain was slicking Manhattan streets outside. The city looked colder than it had at lunch, the kind of evening that made people walk faster.
Andrea had left twenty minutes earlier, claiming she was going straight home to sleep off a migraine. She had said it quietly with one hand pressed against her temple as if to prove the point.
Emily had watched her go from the corner of her eye. The migraine might have been real. Either way, the desk across from hers was empty now, she was left alone inside.
Emily turned off her computer when the last of the updates and revised sheets were finally sent. The sudden black of the monitor left her face reflected faintly for a second before she looked away. She tapped her desk for a moment, considering Serena's earlier invitation to drink because Emily finally not limping anymore.
Maybe she'd just go home and sleep early today.
Emily sat there a little longer anyway, listening to the quiet and the rain, eyes drifting once more to the empty desk across from hers before she finally reached for her bag. She prepared her leave, packing important things into her bohemian-chic Dior Gaucho. Her eyes wandered around the office before she left.
"Bloody hell," she said when her eyes landed on Andrea's desk.
It was a mess.
A terribly terrible messy mess.
Emily couldn't stand the empty paper cup on the desk, why couldn't Andrea throw away her own trash?
She stood up abruptly, slowly walking toward Andrea's desk. The sight was even more awful this close. Emily looked at the sticky notes Andrea had put around her table, last Friday's to do list. Then she looked at the crumpled notes on her desk, then the empty paper cup.
A small sigh escaped Emily, she understood that Andrea wasn't in a good mood today due to her relationship status. Her heart moved just a little bit before she grabbed the trash and threw it away. She spent several minutes cleaning Andrea's desk. Emily would never do this if Andrea was not sad, she would lash out at her tomorrow morning, not whatever she was doing right now.
Emily opened Andrea's desk drawer, looking for that bright yellow sticky note. She also grabbed a pen to write on it.
Never. Never leave your desk messy.
Her handwriting was good, always good. She stuck it on Andrea's computer screen before putting the sticky note back to her drawer. Her hand paused for a moment. She scoffed and close it.
Then, Emily left the office after leaving a masterpiece on Andrea's computer screen.