Inspired by Britney Spears' and Sia's performance of Perfume.

The only perfume Miranda wears is Chanel No. 5. Andy knows this fact rather well, because the one time she bought Miranda Joy Jean Patou perfume that she saved three month's pay for, she was rewarded by the sight of the white-haired woman giving it to Caroline. Andy knew her lover wasn't the most thoughtful person, but it didn't take away the sting of seeing the $800 dollar 75 ml bottle given to a 13 year old who hasn't even worn it once. The lesson had been learned though. Don't get Miranda any perfume other than Chanel No. 5.

It is a scent the brunette commits to memory, associating the smell with power, sensuality, and ultimate femininity. Her girlfriend of the past two years definitely fits-if not defines-all of those qualities. Andy sits at the vanity Miranda had boughten for herself and stares at herself in the mirror, peering deeply in her dark brown eyes. Lately, Miranda has been coming home smelling different. The unmistakable waft of Dior mixed with Chanel No. 5. produces an entirely different scent that makes the young journalist's stomach churn. Andy's not stupid. She knows this day was coming sooner or later. Miranda is finally sick of her, and found another lover. Although her heart feels like it's being ripped out of her chest, Andy stares at herself with blank eyes. Blindly, she reaches out and her fingers curve around a familiar square-shaped bottle. She lifts it and sprays some on her neck, deeply inhaling the signature scent and immediately tears up. Feeling guilty for reasons she can't explain, she gently sets the perfume back down and slowly lowers her head down to the cool countertop. Tears flow freely out of her eyes. I've lost her.

Andy comes to the decision to ignore the scent of Dior coming from Miranda. She's too in love with the older woman to let her go. A life without Miranda would hardly be worth living. So, Andy decides to stay, no matter how much her heart clenches when Miranda stumbles in late every night reeking of that damned Dior. She misses Chanel No. 5. On those long nights by herself, Andrea douses herself in her own Hermès perfume, courtesy of Miranda from their third date after the Editor remarked that she smelled like a teenage girl in Dolce and Gabbana. She sprays the sweet smell on her neck, the insides of her wrists, and even sprays it on her hairbrush to spread the perfume in her hair. One night, Caroline comes into the room and immediately wrinkles her nose.

"Geez," she fans the air in front of her face, "what are you doing? Trying to bathe in it?"

"Sorry Caroline," Andy sets the bottle to the side. "I guess I just got over-excited. I love this scent."

"Well Mom will be happy to hear that," Caroline shrugs. "I was just wondering if you would help me with my English paper."

"Of course," Andrea stands and follows the girl back to her room.

Andy still follows the same ritual starting at 10:00 at night to whenever Miranda gets home. Spray neck, spray insides of wrists, and spray hairbrush. Repeat. When Miranda gets home, they have sex, and Andrea makes sure to rub her body all over her lover's to mark the Editor in her scent. Miranda always ends up taking shower in the morning anyways, but Andy always pretends that her little 'plan' will work. Of course it doesn't, and Miranda comes home every night smelling like Dior. The comforting scent of Chanel No. 5. has been fading night by night, and soon, the scent is gone completely.

One night, when Miranda comes home at some ungodly hour, Andrea is waiting for her with a small smile.

"Hi," she says quietly and takes her lover's coat, hanging it up in the closet. As the coat rustles slightly, the scent of Dior fills her nostrils, and she slams a mask of indifference down on her face before turning back to face the Editor.

Miranda rubs her eyes and looks exhausted. "You didn't have to wait up."

"I wanted to," Andrea shrugs. "How was Runway?"

"Fine," Miranda moves to the kitchen and the brunette follows her.

Pouring herself a glass of white wine, she rubs her neck and tilts her snowy head back. Andrea silently stands behind her and starts massaging the tense muscles. That's when she sees it. A small bite-shaped mark right behind Miranda's right ear. Her stomach drops and her arms fall limply to their sides.

"Andrea?" Miranda asks and turns her head to look at her.

Andy looks at her with pure pain in her eyes, and gestures to the mark. "You forgot to cover that up."

Miranda slaps a hand over the bruise and her eyes widen. She opens her mouth to speak, but is cut off by Andrea.

"Save it. I don't want to hear anything." She's sick and tired of feeling unwanted and unloved. She feels like an idiot.

"Andrea-"

"I said, save it," Andy averts her stinging eyes. "I've known what was happening for a while now. I guess I should have done something more to prevent it. I was a stupid fool for thinking that it would work it out by itself."

"Andrea," Miranda reaches out to place her hands on Andrea's forearms, and flinches when the young woman pulls away before her palms even ghost the pale skin. "I'm sorry."

"Shut up," Andy looks at the woman who holds her heart in pure anger. "You're never sorry for anything."

"They were going to take away Runway again," Miranda sighs and rubs her eyes. "The stunt I pulled in Paris only bought me a year and a half. Jacqueline came back, and I needed to save my position again."

"So you slept with her," Andy's shaking from rage and slams her hand down on the table. Her heart throbs painfully and her stomach clenches as she visualizes her girlfriend and Jacqueline together. "Goddamn it Miranda. What the hell is wrong with you? You've stooped so low as to fuck your way to the top?"

"I did what I had to in order to protect my job. I didn't have a choice," Miranda looks at her with cool eyes. "Runway is my life. My everything."

Andy's heart drops at those words. It is suddenly so painfully clear. She means nothing to Miranda-she is as insignificant as a clacker. "You told me everybody has a choice once," Andrea ignoring the hot tears of anger currently running down her face and steps towards Miranda, her voice getting softer and lower. "I guess I know what your choice is."

"No Andrea-" Again, Miranda reaches out to provide a physical connection, but Andy steps back with her cold mask firmly back in place.

"Don't ever touch me again," Andrea says, her voice icy and unfeeling.

She turns and walks stiffly out the door, the sound of breaking glass following her departure. When Andy walks out into the cool night, she inhales the fresh air deeply, allowing it to cleanse her nose of any remaining traces of perfume. She hates Chanel No. 5, Dior, and Hermès and vows never to smell or wear any of those scents again. A faint smile stretches across her lips, and she shoves her hands in her jean pockets as she finally walks away.