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Ten always thought of himself as a good guy. Sweet, compassionate, charming. One who could do no wrong. One who could do no harm. Trustworthy. Gentle. Smart. Popular.
He adored it. He savored all of the attention he constantly had on him. He loved their gazes resting on him at all times. But he couldn't help but crave more. His current situation just wouldn't cut it, it wasn't good enough. He longed to have all eyes on him.
What he didn't realize was that a certain cornflower-blue number's eyes was following his every breath.
When Ten blinked, he found himself in an unfamiliar area. A swirling portal as golden as his heart glowed above him, and found himself face to face with her.
One.
"Y.. You."
"Me."
She leered, her gaze seemed as if it could never break away from him.
Before Ten could mutter another word, a glowing contract floated down onto the table he was sat at. He scanned the sheet of paper, attempting to read the document. Unfortunately, the fine print was scrambled to bits, which left him unable to comprehend the text. He looked up at One, perplexed.
"I... can't read it?"
She sneered back at him.
"Why would you need to? You can trust me."
"A-Are you sure?"
The contract was pushed closer to him as One's gaze stayed fixed onto him.
"Don't you want to be the host of your very own show?" She hummed, still with that smile etched on her face.
"Well..." He swallowed, fidgeting with his trembling fingers.
Silence as he thought it over.
"I-I... Yeah. But... How do I know I can trust you?" He queried.
One smiled.
"Hey, I haven't done a single thing to you here that would harm you. That counts, doesn't it?
...She did sort of have a point. But he still felt on edge about it all.
"This'll fix my issues? And help me achieve my dreams?"
"Duh. Just sign this little contract and I'll have you arranged to be broadcasted worldwide with your very own show in no time!"
One slid the paper even closer towards Ten.
Hesitation. Sweat sticking to his palms. A lump in his throat. Was he really so desperate to have his own TV show to host to the point where he was willing to strike a deal with her?
His mind screamed at him, desperately yelling at him that this was a bad idea. But he didn't listen.
He pressed his shaky hand to the paper.