When Kim Taehyung's fictional romance with his costar Jeon Jeongguk feels more genuine than anything he accomplished in his entire acting career, he believes it shouldn't be a problem: after all, it's just acting.
But isn't it wrong to be envisioni...
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"Cut. That's it for you today, Tae. Thank you."
Taehyung stretched, a yawn slipping past his parted lips as he trudged past Yoongi and back to the make-up station, shoulders slumped and throat a little raw from repeating the same lines. Today was a solo shot, and the weather in Seattle was unrelenting. It was pouring, constantly, but outside, it was shifting from fall to winter, so at least his sore throat and the cold budding in his sinuses weren't for nothing.
Yoongi wasn't satisified today. Yoongi wasn't satisfied all week. Usually, Taehyung could knock out a scene easily, but something in him kept missing the goddamn bar. Something wasn't right.
He repeated the same scene over and over, yet Yoongi didn't like it. His icey, judgmental expression and the presence of focus burrowed between his brows, never evaded his cat-like features, and it left Taehyung uneasy. Left him crumbling apart beneath his open disapproval.
All directors were difficult to please, and somehow, being unable to fulfill Yoongi's vision settled in his stomach like cement. It was heavy, dreadful, that looming sense of disappointment, and every time Yoongi repeated "start over," he would squeeze his eyes shut and let out a labored exhale, fingers finding their usual spot, dug deep into his palm.
It was okay, he kept trying to tell himself, to keep himself together. There were more days of filming, and today was just a bad day. Right, it was a bad day. This was just a bad week. Yoongi wasn't upset at him. He wasn't holding a grudge either from their past conversation.
And yet, every time he glanced up in a mirror, he realized he'd been rubbing off the make-up around his nose, revealing red, irritated splotches, and every time he spoke, the words were caught in his congestion, nasally and uneven.
Taehyung exhaled roughly, hunching over his chair and letting his face fill his stinging palms. He hated it. Hated being this weak. Hated not being in his best shape because he usually never got sick, but Seattle was relentless and cruel, and the constant cold, rainy weather bit him right in the ass regardless.
However, he couldn't take a break. He needed to get better fast. To be good enough for Yoongi. To get that scene right. To hear that he performed well, did exactly what Yoongi wanted.
A shaky breath snaked past Taehyung's slightly chapped lips, his palms icey against his blazing cheeks. He forced his eyes shut, willing the dull throbbing in his head to leave him alone.
The thoughts were already there, lingering, brewing.
Somewhere in his head, lightening might have crackled.
"Hey Taehyung!"
Taehyung slowly removed his hands away from his face, brows furrowed tight and the frown he wore etched across his lips. When he noticed who it was, something in his resolve softened noticing it was Jeongguk, and by his side was Penn.
