Celebrity Crush | Kim Taehyung Fan Fiction

Facade

(Hyejin's POV)

The studio lights were harsh, casting a sterile glow on the set. I sat on the interview chair, surrounded by a sea of faces, cameras clicking away. The air crackled with anticipation, and I took a deep breath, reminding myself to stay composed.

The interviewer, a well-known but notoriously intrusive figure, leaned forward with a sly grin. "Hyejin, rumors have been swirling about your personal life lately. Can you comment on the alleged relationship with Taehyung from BTS?"

I felt a knot tighten in my stomach, but I kept my expression neutral. "I don't usually discuss my private life in public. I'm here to talk about my work and upcoming projects."

The interviewer pressed on, undeterred. "But fans are curious, Hyejin. They want to know if there's any truth to these rumors. Are you and Taehyung really an item?"

A forced smile played on my lips. "I appreciate the curiosity, but I believe my personal life is off-limits. Let's focus on my music and the projects I'm working on."

The questions, however, took a sharp turn into unprofessional territory. They delved into speculation about my mental health, my family, and even questioned the authenticity of my success. Each query chipped away at the carefully constructed armor I wore for the public eye.

"You've been facing a lot of criticism lately, Hyejin. Some say you don't deserve the success you've achieved. How do you respond to those who doubt your talent?"

I felt a surge of anger, but I maintained my poise. "I believe in letting my work speak for itself. I'm grateful for the support of my fans and the opportunities I've been given."

The interviewer persisted, digging deeper into wounds I hadn't realized were so raw. "But what about the pressure, Hyejin? The industry is ruthless, and many are questioning if you can handle it. What's your response to those who doubt your resilience?"

I took a steadying breath, my jaw clenched. "I've faced challenges before, and I'll continue to do so. The music industry is demanding, but I'm committed to my craft and my fans."

The questions continued, relentless and probing. My smile became more strained with each passing moment, and I could feel the facade I wore cracking. The studio lights seemed to intensify, casting shadows that mirrored the turmoil within me.

"And what about the rumors of your past? Some claim you've taken questionable paths to get to where you are. How do you address those allegations?"

I struggled to maintain my composure. "I won't dignify baseless rumors with a response. My focus is on my music and the positive impact I can make through my work."

As the interview dragged on, I felt the weight of judgment and scrutiny bearing down on me. I was caught in a storm of invasive questions, and with each passing minute, my resilience waned.

The final blow came when the interviewer, with a cruel smirk, asked, "Do you ever feel like you're not strong enough for this industry, Hyejin? Do you ever think about walking away?"

The room fell into a heavy silence, and for a moment, I was frozen. The question hit a nerve, striking at the heart of my vulnerabilities. But I couldn't let them see that.

"I'm here because I love what I do," I replied, my voice steady but laced with an underlying strain. "I won't let challenges or rumors dictate my path. I'm stronger than you think."

As the interview concluded, I excused myself from the set, the weight of the questions still lingering in the air.

I closed the dressing room door behind me, shutting out the prying eyes and judgmental whispers that seemed to linger in the air. The stark silence enveloped me, and I leaned against the door, my eyes closed as I tried to steady my racing heart.

The harsh, unforgiving lights of the studio were replaced by the soft glow of the vanity mirror. I caught a glimpse of myself – the facade I presented to the world. The poised artist, the confident performer. But in the reflection, I saw the cracks, the weariness that the intrusive questions had etched onto my face.

With a sigh, I moved to the makeup table, absently picking up a makeup wipe and beginning to remove the layers of carefully applied cosmetics. Each swipe felt like shedding another layer of armor, exposing the vulnerability that lay beneath.

Just as I began to wipe away the last traces of makeup, the dressing room door creaked open. I glanced up, meeting Yeon's concerned gaze. 

"Hyejin, are you okay?" Yeon's voice was soft, his eyes searching mine for any sign of distress.

I managed a small, weary smile. "Just another day in entertainment."

(Yeon's POV)

I sensed the weight she carried, the aftermath of a relentless interview that had probed into the most intimate corners of her life.

I walked over, a hand hovering over her shoulder, but she shrugged it off. "I'm fine, Yeon. Just tired."

I raised an eyebrow, my expression conveying my skepticism. "You sure about that? That interview looked like it took a toll on you."

Hyejin managed a weak smile. "It's part of being in this line of work."

I sighed softly, recognizing her resilience but also understanding the toll it took. "You don't always have to be strong, you know? It's okay to let your guard down."

She nodded, but her gaze remained distant, lost in a world of her own thoughts. I decided to try a different approach, one that transcended words. I reached for the makeup wipe she held and gently took it from her hand.

"Let me help with that," I offered, gesturing toward her face.

Hyejin hesitated for a moment before nodding, allowing me to take a step closer. As I began to wipe away the layers of makeup, I couldn't help but notice the exhaustion etched into the lines of her face.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, I tried a playful comment. "You know, you should hire me as your personal makeup artist. I've got a hidden talent for this."

She managed a small chuckle, appreciating the effort. "Maybe I'll stick with Hana."

But as I continued to wipe away the makeup, I couldn't shake the feeling of her resistance, her subconscious rejection of the comfort I offered. It wasn't lost on me – her loyalty to Taehyung, the unspoken connection that seemed to influence her actions.

I finished removing the makeup, stepping back to give her space. "There you go, all cleaned up."

"Thanks," she said, but her eyes held a distant gaze.

I wanted to say something more, to offer reassurance or a shoulder to lean on, but the unspoken barrier between us lingered. As we prepared to leave the dressing room, I couldn't shake the feeling that, in her mind, she was walking a path dictated by loyalty to someone else, someone who wasn't in the room but whose presence loomed large in the unspoken spaces between us.