Beyond the Spotlight | Volume: 1

24

S E O N G H W A

Seonghwa was exhausted. The relentless pace of Paris Fashion Week was taking its toll on him. He stood under the harsh studio lights, trying to maintain his composure as the photographer barked instructions at him.

"Seonghwa, turn your head to the left. No, the other left! Do you even know your directions?" the photographer snapped, his frustration palpable. "And for God's sake, stop looking so stiff!"

Seonghwa adjusted his pose, feeling the weight of fatigue pressing down on him. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror, his usually sharp features now softened by exhaustion.

The photographer muttered something in French, and though Seonghwa didn't understand the exact words, the tone was unmistakably derisive. He could feel the disdain in the air, like a tangible presence. The photographer's eyes swept over him, and Seonghwa felt scrutinized, judged.

"Your body looks too thin in this angle," the photographer continued, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Can you try to look less... androgynous? It's not working for this shoot."

Seonghwa's cheeks burned with embarrassment and anger. He had always been proud of his unique look, the androgynous beauty that set him apart. But here, in this cold studio, it felt like a liability.

"Pourquoi avez-vous choisi ce modèle?" the photographer muttered to his assistant, clearly thinking Seonghwa couldn’t understand. "Il n'a même pas l'air d'un homme."

Seonghwa clenched his fists, his limited French catching enough to understand the insult. Why did you choose this model? He doesn't even look like a man.

He fought to keep his emotions in check, forcing himself to focus on the job at hand. He repositioned himself, trying to embody the confidence and grace he usually exuded on the runway. But the constant jabs from the photographer were wearing him down.

"Move your hand higher," the photographer ordered. "And for heaven's sake, try to look like you belong here."

Seonghwa bit his lip, feeling a lump form in his throat. He had worked so hard to get here, to be part of this glamorous world of fashion. But now, it felt like it was slipping away, like he was failing at the very thing he had given up everything for.

The photographer's assistant stepped in, trying to smooth things over. "Maybe we should take a short break?" she suggested gently.

The photographer sighed, exasperated. "Fine, a five-minute break. Maybe then our precious model can pull himself together."

Seonghwa nodded numbly, stepping off the set and heading towards a corner of the studio. He leaned against the wall, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths to steady himself.

Camille, who had been watching from the sidelines, approached him with a bottle of water. "Here, drink this," she said softly. "You need to stay hydrated."

Seonghwa accepted the bottle, grateful for the small gesture of kindness. "Thanks, Camille," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't let him get to you," Camille continued. "You’re amazing, Seonghwa. You've got this."

Seonghwa nodded, though he wasn't entirely sure he believed her. The photographer's harsh words echoed in his mind, a cruel reminder of the pressures and expectations that came with his dream.

As the break ended and he returned to the set, Seonghwa steeled himself. He would push through the exhaustion, the criticism, and the doubt. He had to. This was his dream, and he wasn't going to let anyone take it away from him.

But as the shoot continued, the photographer's impatience only grew. "Seonghwa, what are you doing? Do you even know how to model?" he spat. "You're wasting everyone's time!"