Pose For Me | K.TH

17

AILA

Never mind.

This is terrifying.

On the outside I must look gorgeous, wearing Taehyung's design. And all of his work were beautiful, so unique from the others that I stood out even if I tried not to.

But all these models. They're looking down on me with narrowed, lashed eyes, their stares fixed on my back when they think I can't see them.

And some don't even care, pointing and whispering in my direction.

I'm just trying not to tremble like a leaf.

"Mademoiselle."

"Jungkook." I breathe out in relief, quickly turning to him. He's dressed in a sleek suit, toned black and gold. He was modeling for Taehyung as well, wasn't he?

"Ignore them." He tells me, his eyes flickering at the line of models. "Ignore them all. You look absolutely stunning in that dress, and they know it. The show will be starting soon."

He gives me an encouraging smile.

"Have pride, Miss Choi. You model for V."

Yes.

Clenching my sweaty fists together, I fix my eyes forward and calm my rapid heartbeat as the runway flashes white under the spotlight. I can catch glimpses of the massive crowd outside, shadowed in pitch black.

Taehyung would be in that crowd, watching every model.

And then I look up, to find someone watching me.

It's that woman. The woman I'd seen back at the modelhouse, the one who I'd thought was easily one of the most beautiful people alive.

She looks breathtaking in the clothes she's wearing, a dark green gown that nearly touches the floor when she walks.

Her expression is cold as her eyes scan down the dark silver dress I have on.

I tear my gaze away from her, feeling shaken again.

Jungkook said to ignore them all.

And now it was my turn to go.

_______________________________

TAEHYUNG

There she is.

The first step she takes out to the runway is a little hesitant. I see her tense a little bit at the brightness of the spotlight, but that's all I catch from her before she walks down the white platform.

Before she takes over the entire runway— the entire crowd.

This girl.

Unbelievable, every time I saw her.

The gown on her shines like moonlight in the bright beams coming down at her from above, and I see it shadow her face in all the right places.

She walks like an assassin in that dress.

Her dark eyes sweep over the audience before disappearing backstage. And she had made quite an entrance— I can hear the whispers, the ripples amongst the people.