Wooyoung and San, aspiring models in different agencies, are teamed up for a joint campaign. Both are confident in their looks and no one wants to give in or do worse.
Weeks of collaboration bring the competitors closer together.
When the collaborat...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
⟡ POV Jongho ⟡
The annoying sound of my alarm clock woke me up on this sunny morning. I tiredly rubbed my eyes a few times, yawned loudly, and stretched extensively. The birds were chirping happily outside. I sat up and looked at the time.
9 a.m.
I layed back in my cozy bed and let the blanket and warm pillows hug me. Unfortunately I didn't have time to relax or doze around. In about two hours San had his fitting appointment for another photo shoot this afternoon.
I sighed, rubbed my forehead tiredly, thinking about the stressful events of yesterday. The press event. What a disaster. After the somewhat questionable and heated question and answer session with the reporters, San also disappeared briefly to the bathroom, I knew why. Surprisingly he didn't come back as angry as he had left. Rather, I saw something confused, uncertain, something sad in his eyes.
The press event ended quickly, the reporters and guests left and were forcefully thrown out. It all happened very fast. I hadn't seen Wooyoung anymore, Yeosang disappeared without another word. Tessa and Katy had been too busy dealing with the nosy reporters who didn't let up.
I stood there without a plan, driving home with San after this strenuous day. He had been quiet the whole drive, not saying a single word. Of course I was worried about my brother. I didn't want to see him like that, ever. I wanted to ask what was going on, what had happened, but I respected his wish to remain silent, I didn't push him. If he wanted to tell me something, he would do it, voluntarily.
When I got to my apartment, changed clothes and wanted to sleep, I received another call from the person I least wanted to hear from.
Declined. Ignored.
And so I went to sleep, trying to calm my burning headache from the evening.
Now I looked at the ceiling, stood up with another yawn, ran my hands through my messy hair. I got ready, showered, got dressed and had some breakfast.
I finally found the courage to face the consequences of yesterday's mess. What would be on the internet? What did the reporters think? Were they able to see the hated conditions behind the friendly masks? How would they turn the words around?
I saw many posts and articles about Tessa's new products, news that she had shared at the beginning. I found a lot about the future campaign, about the new project. And there it was.
The social media, the internet talked about Wooyoung and San. Many just said how good they looked, many fans were happy about the collaboration. Many posted pictures and videos and edited them to get countless clicks or likes. The comments piled up, but surprisingly most were positive. In general, the internet was filled with good feedback, rather less hate.
A few articles, a few newspapers tried to start scandals, tried to make people think or put things into the world that weren't real. Luckily they weren't in the majority, they were small and didn't get any attention. No reason to worry.
Nobody had felt the tense atmosphere, they were too blinded by the big news, they were too eager to take the most beautiful picture. I didn't care, the main thing was that no one had seen the hatred in their eyes.
That just went well again. Phew, my big brother was lucky. Things could have gone differently, the disgusting reporters could have gotten out of hand. Wooyoung and San barely saved themselves with their daring statements.
I could understand my brother, I didn't particularly like Wooyoung either. San had nothing to fear, I was confident in his skills and his looks. Wooyoung wouldn't even reach his level in a thousand years. I thought he was acting childish and moody. He was spoiled and didn't want to share the spotlight. San wanted to start on a peaceful path and then the blue haired man said something so rude. If I didn't always maintain my calm facade, I would have jumped at his throat. Nobody was allowed to talk to my brother like that.
I put my cell phone aside, sat down briefly to do my paperwork, and completed a few formal matters for the agency. I was always in contact with them. I informed them about the status of the campaign. They were happy, they always were, with my work. I was precise, I was a perfectionist.
After I graduated from school, I immediately supported my big brother in his work. I committed myself to becoming his manager, tried and worked hard to achieve this position. I wanted to be with him, I wanted to help him. We worked well together, which was evident in our work.
San didn't always want to be a model, in fact I don't know how he got into this. At some point he simply applied to a few agencies, one of them was -Gentleman- .
He wanted to be a doctor, actually. I also knew why. San was loving, he had a pure and golden heart. He was actually so fragile inside, showing it rarely to the outside world, just trying to hold everything together, but sometimes that wasn't possible. I never wanted to see him break. And I wouldn't let Wooyoung do that. Just as San was there for me before, and still is today, I wanted to protect him too.
That was my destiny, my only wish, my dream. At a time when it wasn't worth living or having dreams, he gave me a reason, a goal. I would give anything for my big brother.
When I saw the picture in San's apartment, the picture with us and our mother, trapped memories and emotions came flooding back. San, too good-natured and nice, still carried these things with him. He loved his family.
Family. Me and our mother.
Unfortunately, our father died in a car accident shortly after I was born. I didn't know him, had never met him, couldn't miss anyone I didn't know. San had a hard time remembering him, he was too young. Our mother often told us about him, said how funny and caring he was. She told me how much I looked like him, that every time she saw my face, she saw our father.
She had a hard time raising two little boys on her own. She was alone. She was mourning. She was tired. It was a difficult time. She lost the love of her life, the father of her sons, her helpful husband.
Yes, she was alone until she was no longer. Until the nightmare began.
If only she had never met him. If only she had stayed alone. We would have somehow managed it on our own. Our Life would have been better.
When I saw the picture of us at San's, I didn't think about my mother, I didn't look at it for so long because I was looking at us or thinking about a specific moment. I remembered the person who took this picture. I thought of him. I just thought...
