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Twenty-One

Brooklyn POV:

My heart wrenched as my Instagram DMs, latest YouTube videos' comment section and even my WhatsApp and Facebook and Twitter flooded with messages, tweets and comments.

Most of the messages said:

"Oh my God! We were all wrong. We thought that you and Taeyang are dating. But things had tossed. He's dating his fangirl? Lucky her!"

"Was Taeyang cheating on you? Ah! Such a gentleman being a player!"

"If Taeyang has cheated on you then you go and date someone else! Never be sad because of that player! You've got millions of fish in the sea!"

"Umm... Just being honest, that fangirl looks better with Taeyang than you."

All these comments and messages killed me deep inside. My heart ached and my soul faded away.

And what could go worse when both my fans as well as Taeyang's started making fan edits of Taeyang and that fangirl.

Those edits made me angry and jealous. I started disdaining myself. My anxious mind was going out of my control and I was losing myself. The harmful habit that I had lost years ago after being successful was slowly coming up from inside my body.

I got my boxing gloves from the drawer and put them on. I walked towards the wall and started punching hard on the wall. That was my only way of overcoming my anger; my depression.

I had this issue years before but the limelight, success, awards, fans and their edits had reduced the rate of my anger. But once my anger exploded, I cannot get good control over myself and this was the result - hurting myself.

"BROOKLYN!" My elder half-brother Michael came running into the room. "Stop hurting yourself! Stop it!" He ran towards me and distanced me away from the wall. He pushed me away and I fell onto the bed.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" Michael shouted at me.

"Didn't you get to know about the latest news?" I shouted back at him as tears rolled down my eyes.

"So? What do you think? Everything will be alright if you hurt yourself?" He asked, removing the boxing gloves in my hand. Blood was oozing out through the small pores in both of my knuckles. My fingers were blood red. "Look what you've got yourself into!"

"Then what else should I do?" I cried out as he kept his hand on my face and placed my head on his shoulder.

"Don't cry. Please don't. What if all of these are just some misunderstandings? Then you'll regret what you're doing right now." He justified.

"I don't think so. See this." I shoved my phone at him as he read through the messages and comments and saw the fan edits.

"Brooklyn, let's not jump to any conclusions. Just take a break and you'll be fine. Trust me."

"OK then. Let me just take a break. Let me just stay indoors for some time. Michael, will you please postpone or cancel all the schedules to where I'll have to appear soon?" I pleaded to him.

"I'll postpone it. Take your time. OK? And don't hurt yourself." Michael patted my head and then walked out of my room, dialling my manager's number and postponing a few recent to-be held shoots.