Chapter Text
Isn't it weird how life sometimes manages to put you into unexpected situations?
You wonder what business it has giving you these side quests to complete instead of letting you play the main game.
Yet you give all of yourself to accomplish each and every mission, just so you can reach the one and only prize you wanted from the beginning.
Happiness.
"Careful, signorina" the young man extended his hand toward Andrea, helping her step onto the small - yet very expensive-looking - boat.
"Thank you." she smiled, hopping onto the small steps and accepting his help.
Happiness.
Isn't it the main prize we have all run for since the beginning of time?
Everybody seeks happiness in one way or another.
Some people find it in traveling around the world, others find it in marriage, in building a family, or in money, fame, knowledge...
Or... love.
"Okay, are we good to go?" the young man asked as soon as he was sure both Andrea and Miranda - along with all of their luggage - were on the boat.
Miranda didn't even bother to give him a look, she just gracefully sat on one of the - also very expensive-looking - seats of the boat, her ankles elegantly crossed.
A black and white Gucci scarf was carefully wrapped around her head and tied under her chin to keep the wind from messing up her hair.
A large pair of sunglasses covered her light and delicate eyes from the scorching sun, which was now shining above the lagoon.
Is it possible for happiness to have piercing blue eyes?
Or big brown ones?
Is it possible for happiness to manifest itself as a - very annoying and bubbly - 25-year-old assistant?
And is it possible - oh, sorry, what?
Oh, you want to know if it is - in fact - possible after all?
Very well then, make yourself comfortable, as we're about to discover the many shapes happiness can take.
Andrea offered the guy a gentle smile and nodded, taking a seat right next to Miranda. Careful not to disturb her, Andrea freed herself from the shoulder bag she'd been carrying around all day and set it on her lap.
She pulled out a loose hair tie and tied back her long brown hair, suddenly aware of the wind that was starting to pick up as the boat started to bounce over the small waves of the Giudecca Canal.
Miranda looked like a wax sculpture, her hands resting firmly on her lap and her eyes - even though they were covered by black lenses - were clearly fixed on the horizon, as the distant silhouette of the Venice Lido became clearer and more defined with every passing second.
Not a single word was spoken during their twenty-minute boat ride.
At some point, Andrea wondered if Miranda was actually feeling well; by the end of their ride, she was clutching her hands together so tightly that her knuckles had turned white.
Andrea didn't dare say a thing, though, even if her instinct was screaming at her that she should have shown some form of care for the woman sitting next to her.
The wound was clearly still open, even if they never talked about what had happened that night in Paris.
Well, why would they talk about such a thing in the first place?
They weren't friends, after all.
Andrea was just an assistant... right?
Right.
Miranda's heart was still hurting, but it wasn't because of Stephen.
Even if she would never have admitted it, watching Andrea walk away from her - even if only for a few hours - had shattered her heart into pieces so small that even Andrea had come to terms with the fact that Miranda was now, once again, testing her.
Truth be told, both of them had their reasons to be mad at each other that day.
Andrea had almost fainted under the weight of Miranda's relentless schedule and was on the verge of throwing up when she had decided to leave that damn woman behind.
On the other hand, Miranda had felt abandoned yet again after showing her vulnerability.
Unlovable.
That was the term that filled her mind.
Yet Miranda was definitely not thinking about it anymore.
Andrea was still her assistant; she had been kind and generous enough to take her back after Andrea’s grand gesture in Paris to prove a point.
Everything was fine.
She was definitely not thinking about being left again by Andrea.
OK?
Finally, the boat slowed down, and Miranda released her grip, blood flowing back into her hands.
Andrea exhaled in relief, noticing Miranda shift in her seat as soon as the boat stopped to let them disembark.
They got off, and Miranda simply started walking along the pier.
She didn't wait for Andrea, didn't spare a look for the man who had - once again - helped them off the boat, and didn't care to wait for whoever was meant to transport their luggage to the Hotel Excelsior.
That was Andrea’s job.
Andrea struggled to thank the boat guy and explain to the two young girls - who were clearly waiting for them, even if Miranda had completely bypassed them - that they needed more than one person to get their things to the hotel.
All the while, she had to ensure she never lost sight of Miranda, or she would be so very dead.
They reached the hotel, checked their IDs, and got their room keys in five minutes flat. For the entire time, Miranda had been strikingly silent.
Andrea had noticed her fidgeting with her hands on the edge of her scarf for a few seconds.
Weird enough.
Miranda's body language had been very odd since they had stepped onto the boat.
Andrea told herself she didn't care and swallowed, once again, the urge to ask if Miranda was okay.
They followed the young girl who had their room keys.
She moved through the corridors and up the stairs of the Hotel Excelsior confidently, looking almost too joyful for someone working there just for the money.
Andrea was almost jealous of that feeling. The girl stopped in front of two doors next to each other and smiled politely.
"There you go, rooms 203 and 204, both Grand Deluxe Sea View." she swiped the card on the first door and did the same with the second.
"Thank you very much." Andrea smiled at her and slightly tilted her head to the side, taking in the beautiful image of the blonde girl in front of her.
"Your bags are already in your rooms. If you need anything, you can call the reception." She gave a tiny smile to Miranda too and then sprinted down the stairs.
As soon as they were alone again, Andrea tried to open her mouth to ask Miranda about their schedule, but Miranda was already stepping into her room and shutting the door behind her.
Andrea stared at the closed door for a few seconds, as if she were trying to process what had actually happened.
Miranda shut the door and tossed her sunglasses onto the first surface she found. She kicked off her heels and almost ran to the bathroom, kneeling before the toilet.
The strong scent of bleach invaded her senses as she squeezed her eyes shut, nearly crying.
One last stomach cramp did it.
She threw up, gripping the toilet seat.
With her eyes still shut, she stood up on unsteady legs and flushed the toilet.
She splashed fresh water into her mouth and finally opened her eyes, taking in the sight of her reflection in the mirror.
A disaster.
Well, a disaster by Miranda Priestly's standards.
She combed her fingers through her hair and looked at the reflection of her own eyes, blinking slowly.
"Fucking boat."
She stumbled tiredly out of the bathroom, one hand placed on her stomach and the other supporting her against the wall.
She collapsed onto the bed and, without even knowing it, fell asleep.
Andrea, on the other side of the wall, had somehow decided to do the same, even though she knew she should have unpacked and prepared for the event they were to attend that night.
But Andrea was tired.
She was too tired to care, too tired to think clearly, and too tired to undress.
She woke up an hour later with her stomach grumbling, her dress rolled up around her hips, and her bangs a total disaster.
"Mmm..." She grabbed her phone and checked the time.
4:27 PM
The jet lag had completely wrecked her.
Perhaps, if her head had been clearer, she never would have knocked on the door next to hers.
The number 204 elegantly engraved on a golden plaque.
Andrea stood there in silence, her fingers wrapped tightly around the blue pouch containing Miranda's makeup.
Her mind drifting away as she waited for Miranda to open the door.
She imagined the woman opening the door in her robe, or in her lingerie... or covered only by a bath towel.
Toned legs exposed, milky white skin, yearning for Andrea's hands to touch her...
The door clicked, and Andrea’s eyes snapped open as soon as she caught herself thinking about Miranda like that.
Miranda opened the door, completely dressed, of course and without a single sign of the nap she had taken.
However, her face still looked tired, and Andrea's heart skipped a beat.
Andrea would have liked to lift her hand and gently stroke Miranda's cheek, check on her, and make sure everything was all right...
Ask 'Can I do anything for you? '
She didn't.
"Sorry, Miranda," she mumbled instead, as Miranda’s eyes slowly roamed over her body "this is yours, I think. It was in my room, but these aren't my things."
Miranda looked at her for a few seconds, her blue eyes burning Andrea's skin.
It was an almost pleasant feeling, having those eyes eat her alive.
Andrea wondered how Miranda's hands would feel on her body instead of just her gaze.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of Miranda's fingers brushing lightly against hers as she grabbed the purse Andrea was still holding.
Miranda hadn't spoken a word to her in hours.
She kept it that way, simply stepping back into her room and closing the door in the face of Andrea's confused expression.
"The fuck...?" a whisper left Andrea's lips as she stared at the white door in front of her.
~ ♡ ~
Andrea was sure Miranda Priestly had been created by some mythical creature just so she could walk on a red carpet.
She glided across it, capturing everyone's attention, even though she wasn't one of the famous actresses who had gathered in Venice to attend the festival.
They were there because Runway had played a crucial role in the promotion of Anne Hathaway's latest movie.
Anne had posed for the cover of Runway in June, dressed in Chanel as her character in the film, and she was now attending the Venice Film Festival.
So Anne had invited Miranda to attend the festival too because, somehow, the actress was madly in love with her.
Well... not in the same way Andrea was.
Andrea had, of course, followed her as her assistant on this trip, wanting to prove that she was still devoted to her job and - most importantly - to Miranda.
She had left, of course, but it had been for what?
Three hours?
Anyway, Miranda was still a bit skeptical, or at least that was the feeling Andrea was getting. She was mostly silent when they were alone, talking to Andrea only when strictly necessary and using Emily to communicate whenever she needed to explain more complex matters.
Andrea was exhausted, constantly trying to come up with new ideas to get Miranda's attention and prove that she was worthy.
Worthy of her job.
Worthy of her trust.
Worthy of her love...
That last part, though, was complete madness.
Andrea was trying her best to suppress her feelings for Miranda; after all, there was no reason to be this delusional.
Even a child could see Miranda would never be interested in someone like Andrea.
Come on, now...
But what if I told you that our other woman had the exact same thoughts about Andrea?
Don't believe me?
Well believe me or not, Miranda was completely mad at herself.
She had let herself fall in love with her assistant, the same assistant who had L E F T her.
Left her just like her husbands had done.
Like the few friends she'd had over the years.
Unfortunately, she had fallen in love the moment she saw Andrea's beautiful eyes linger on her when she slammed that damn Harry Potter book on her desk.
Fucking bitch.
Ah she fucking loved her.
And she was willing to make these feelings disappear as soon as possible.
So she was actively giving Andrea the silent treatment and not because she was mad at the younger woman, but because she was mad at herself.
She was punishing herself for falling in love with the last person she should have ever dreamed of.
Nigel had tried to convince her this wasn't the end of the world, but of course, we’re talking about Miranda Priestly here... when has she ever listened to anyone?!
So now she was standing there in silence, a glass of champagne in hand, sipping it from time to time while Andrea was chained to her side.
Those damn puppy eyes wouldn't leave her for a second.
It was killing her.
She had restrained herself for months and she was about to collapse.
Still, expressing her feelings was not an option; Miranda Priestly does not indulge in these kinds of teenage activities.
Period.
And Andrea was not in love with her, so what was the purpose in doing so?
She just had to suppress herself further and pray the warm feeling she had when in Andrea's company would disappear as soon as possible.
She had thought she might have finally have a moment to herself on the red carpet and during the festival's opening ceremony, since Miranda's seat was next to Anne's and Andrea had to sit a few rows behind them.
She thought she could finally have some peace.
But peace is nothing without the experience of war, and naturally, her brain had begun to notice how alike Anne and her Andrea looked.
Of course, Andrea was twenty years younger than Anne, and she had bangs framing her beautiful face, while Anne had longer, wavy hair flowing down her shoulders, but their features were almost identical.
Every time Miranda looked at Anne throughout the evening, her heart skipped a beat.
It was almost like looking at an older, more confident version of Andrea.
She had to breathe, she couldn’t stand it anymore.
She almost ran outside, clenching her teeth as she tried not to actually sprint down the hall.
The music had started a few minutes prior, so almost nobody had noticed her, as they were more interested in the artists who were now playing their songs.
Miranda set foot on the beach right outside the Excelsior, and her breath steadied almost immediately.
She shot down what remained of her champagne and closed her eyes.
"Ladies and gentleman, please welcome Giorgia Todrani!"
A male voice presented the next singer, who, judging by the excitement coming from every guest, didn't really need any presentation whatsoever.
"Grazie," a sweet voice came from the black-haired woman now standing on the stage. "It's an honour."
"All right, so... ladies and gentlemen, ecco a voi 'La cura per me', canta Giorgia."
The piano hit the first note and Miranda rested her back against the wall behind her, her mind drifting away, letting the words of the song sink into her soul.
E no, non cambierà
Dirti una bugia o la verità
(And no, it won't change anything, whether I tell you a lie or the truth)
Per me fare una follia è come la normalità
(For me, doing something crazy feels like normality)
Non so più quante volte ti ho cercato
Per quegli occhi, per quegli occhi che fanno da luna
(I no longer know how many times I’ve looked for you, for those eyes, for those eyes that act as my moon)
Non so più quante notti ti ho aspettato
(I no longer know how many nights I’ve waited for you)
Per finire a ingoiare tutta la paura
Di rimanere sola
(Only to end up swallowing all the fear of being left alone)
In questa stanza buia
Solo tu sei la cura per me
(In this dark room, only you are the cure for me)
Tutto passa
(Everything passes)
Ma scordarti non so ancora come si faccia
(But as for forgetting you... I still don't know how it's done)
Qualcosa lo dovevo rovinare
(I had to ruin something)
Nascondo una lacrima nel mare, ferito
(I hide a tear in the sea, wounded)
Voglio andare avanti all'infinito
(I want to go on forever)
Trovarti dentro gli occhi di un cane smarrito
(To find you in the eyes of a stray dog)
No che non ho voglia
Non ho voglia di rincorrerti
(No, I don't want to, I don't want to chase you)
Seguire la tua ombra e salire fino sugli alberi
(To follow your shadow and climb to the tops of the trees)
Guardando il cielo sapendo che lo stai guardando
Ora anche tu
(Looking at the sky, knowing that you are looking at it too, now)
Per me sei la luna
Per me sei la cura
Per me sei avventura
(To me you are the moon, to me you are the cure, to me you are adventure)
Ma non sei nessuno
(Yet you are nobody)
Spengo la paura
Di rimanere sola
Per quegli occhi
(I silence the fear of being left alone, for those eyes)
Per quegli occhi che fanno da luna
(For those eyes that act as my moon)
Non so più quante notti ho aspettato
(I no longer know how many nights I've waited)
Per finire a ingoiare tutta la paura
Di rimanere sola
(Only to end up swallowing all the fear of being left alone)
In questa stanza buia
Non sarò mai più sola
Per me
(In this dark room, I will never be alone again, for me)
Giorgia's melodious voice faded away into thundering applause, and Andrea noticed Miranda wasn't there anymore.
"Shit..." she panicked.
She started looking for her everywhere, excusing herself for rudely bumping into almost every guest in the damn room. Her heart was thundering.
This was it.
She was so fired.
If she messed up again, Emily would kill her, then kill herself, then kill her again.
She crossed the hall, desperately searching for anything that might remind her of Miranda, freezing every time she caught a glimpse of silver hair poking through the crowd.
She rushed to the restrooms, then toward the stage where she had last seen her, but her agitation blinded her to everything around her.
Andrea surrendered to her fate.
Miranda would inevitably chew her up and spit her out like a piece of gum, and no one would save her this time.
She stepped out of the hall, her breath shallow and broken from the frantic chase she had kept up for several minutes.
"Do breathe louder, please. I simply adore it."
Andrea jumped out of her skin, startled by Miranda's voice.
"Oh my - Miranda, you're - oh my god."
Miranda raised a brow, looking at her.
Her back was still pressed against the wall, her head turned to the side just enough to look at Andrea.
"Why on earth are you so agitated? Have you been running around looking for a spectacular way to leave? Yet again." Miranda snorted coldly.
"I - what?!" Andrea took a step forward. "I have been running around because I was looking for you."
"Oh, how sweet." Her tone was dry and sarcastic, cutting through Andrea's heart.
"I was just worried about you." Andrea's gaze slowly took in Miranda's features, sculpted by the faint light of the moon. "I was enjoying the music, and when I turned, you weren't there. So, I panicked."
Miranda’s eyes narrowed slightly, her expression remaining as cold and still as marble.
"I am no child, Andrea. Find your composure."
That was it. Andrea lost it at that.
"Okay, what is your problem?"
"Excuse me?" Miranda growled.
Her gaze was now sharp and filled with rage. Her blue eyes had turned almost transparent, her pupils so constricted that Andrea couldn't even see them in the dim light.
"Why are you being like this? You've barely spoken to me all day... actually, you've barely spoken to me in almost a year..." Andrea's voice now trembling.
Miranda's ice walls had never been higher. And all because of her.
Because her Andrea was actively confronting her.
And you know what? Miranda was... scared. Because losing this fight would mean letting Andrea know her actual feelings, but winning it would mean losing Andrea again.
"...and I know I messed up in Paris. God knows how bad I feel about it, but really, Miranda, don't you think you've punished me enough for it?"
"You did mess up, yes."
Andrea rolled her eyes and took another step forward, almost entering Miranda's personal space.
She noticed Miranda's bloodshot eyes and wondered if she had been crying.
Her mind galloped back to that night in Paris where Miranda had, in a way, opened up to her.
What Andrea didn't know was that Miranda had, in fact, been crying almost every day since they got back from that disastrous trip.
She would kiss the twins goodnight - whenever she managed to get home in time - and then go into her room, trying to concentrate on the Book.
She would fall asleep with her face pressed into the pillow, trying to muffle the sound of her sobs.
She would wake up exhausted, covering her features in makeup, hoping it would conceal her feelings, too.
"You know what? I already apologized for what I did, so please enlighten me on what I should do to make you feel better..."
Once again, Andrea was moving closer, so close she could now feel the warmth of Miranda's body next to hers.
She thought of touching her, holding her hand, and having this conversation in a completely different way.
Gently caressing her cheeks, kissing her forehead, and then her pink mouth.
"What do you want me to do, Miranda...?"
Miranda pressed her lips together, her eyes lingering on Andrea's red lips for just a brief moment.
I want you to love me...
Kiss me...
Never leave me again...
"Your job."
She walked away, leaving an astonished Andrea behind her.
The empty champagne glass that had been in her hand the whole time now showed a small crack on the edge, just like her walls.