𝐓𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰

37 - Runways (EP. 02)

It used to be his intuition he disbelieved would come granted. Aiden knew a mature opponent wouldn’t do something so childish and rather—undeniably obvious, even to the naked eye. Because judging the chaos found in the portable wardrobe, it seemed as if Westerguaard had no ounce of reluctance to use his handy shears. Liam was speechless, Elsa was, too, with the dainty hand almost clutching her heart—but the designer could only bite his lip in remorse that perhaps it’s all over.

Each breathless stylist probed over every attire in tatters, dumbfounded. The show has begun not so long ago, thankfully they were always the last to catwalk the now ruined works of art. But that advantage alone isn’t enough to buy them time to fix and put everything back together and now Aiden could just scream in frustration–

“So he did fall for it,” Elsa all suddenly mused.

Aiden’s eyes darted from his girlfriend to his superior; left and right, left and right until sparks of mirth appeared in Liam’s crinkling eyes, laughter nearly like melody when the older man folded his arms with a giddy nod, “No doubt, no doubt,” and he was still giggling.

“I don’t...” Aiden scratched his head in deep wonder, “I’m kind of confused.”

“Westerguaard felt like having fun with his scissors, didn’t know we had some duplicates,” Liam cackled with a grin, rubbing his veiny hands in glee. The senior clapped grandly, and with a grunt, Marshmallow wasted no time to place a massive box in front of the old director who threw it open.

Aiden finally received his fair share of relief when perfect copies of the original clothings came to his full view. Walking closer to him, Elsa squeezed his hand with a small smile of assurance that nothing was badly out of place anyway.

“Distribute and prepare as primly yet quickly as you all can,” Liam dictated, “Time is of the essence and the spotlight is ours in thirty minutes.”

Meanwhile, Aiden sucked in a breath nervously, “Damn, it’s really happening.”

“W-well,” Elsa couldn’t deny her own heightening anxiety, “We’ve worked hard. Especially you,” she mumbled, “I almost forgot I was with Mister Walterson when he insisted for the duplicates. I’m an idiot.”

“Hush now, you’re no idiot,” Aiden smiled in comfort, “You were just worried for the runway’s sake and I’m not the only one who worked even in late nights. I have always been your nightly coffee date, if I am not mistaken.”

He had always been so supportive and plain perfect. Her kind of perfect, in her own dictionary—from the gentle gaze of his eyes to the soft expression he gave, Aiden was born with no silver tongue which only ought to flatter. Elsa couldn’t help but stroke his cheek, couldn’t help but love how only the sincerest comes out of his mouth.

“Yes, yes you have always been...”

“Um... I suppose we’ll watch from here?” Aiden questioned sheepishly, gesturing to the closed drapes yards away from them. Elsa shook her head, “There are seats reserved for us. Mister Walterson will take things from here,” she looked over her shoulder to meet the director’s mutually firm stare, “We have more than enough evidence against Westerguaard’s scheme.”

Right there, in Mister Walterson’s laptop.

“You knew he would do this, didn’t you?” Aiden sighed.

“Call it my intuition. Hans is that desperate. This is actually the plot Anna and I guessed he would put into action first. He just danced right in to the trap that attracts the mouse,” Elsa smirked, “If he had no bad intentions then he wouldn’t have done anything to bring down his opponent.”