Running In Circles // pjm.

Tension

Once all the outfits were back in the style studio, I completed and left two more designs out to be purchased later. Catalogues were strewn about everywhere. I sighed deeply- this is what a comeback looks like.

The industry was difficult. It was a lot of work and a lot of rules attached to the work. Being a tan skinned outsider, I stuck out in a crowd. And awkwardly. I was confident in my work and myself but being an outsider sucked. People weren't too comfortable around me. Security still did a double take every time I headed onto a set. Being young didn't help much either, but here I looked mature as compared to someone my age. They had soft, delicate looks and I had sharp, mature features. I was considered attractive where I came from- but here I wasn't so sure. It didn't stop me from dressing the way I wanted, though. I didn't conform to their standards and the racism was occasionally palpable. Standing at 166 cm, the only thing that matched the average was my height. However, wearing heels made me tower over even a few of the men, so I saved them for special occasions only. It had ben 10 months since I moved here but it felt like 20. I could swear I had aged in those months, but I had another 8 months on my contract so I stayed put.

Sighing for the umpteenth time today, I grabbed by bag and headed out. As soon as I turned the handle on the door and looked up, I was faced by one Park Jimin. Dressed in the same plain white shirt from before, his black hair was now damp, presumably from a shower. He wore black pants ripped on one knee and an oversized denim jacket. He looked magnificent, as always. And I was unexplainably nervous yet again. In the last seven months, I had gotten well acquainted with each of the seven boys. Well, except Park Jimin. It was weird initially, but I made my peace with it, telling myself that he was either shy or rude and neither of those two possibilities would affect me. Except today it did.

"Tara," he said.

"Jimin-ssi," I responded.

Being younger than all of them, I didn't call any of them 'oppa' except Yoongi because it was unfamiliar to me. Yoongi, however, very specifically told me that he didn't care for the "ssi" and expected me to call him 'oppa.' So, I did, and I got used to it. But just with him though.

"Mia was quite upset after the conversation you two had. What was that about?" he said, walking into the room, looking everywhere except at me.

Oh, okay.

"About her going behind my back and screwing up an outfit that resulted in me getting panned by the PD." I said, pokerfaced. I faced him while he continued wandering into the studio.

"You know I asked her to do it for me, right?" he said, now halting and looking up at me.

"I know. But she should've come to me regardless."

"But that wouldn't be what I asked her for."

"It doesn't matter. Handling the idols isn't my job, but she is my assistant, so..."

"What do you mean 'handling the idols'? What has that got to do with anything?" he asked, crossing his arms and leaning his butt on the messy table.

I just couldn't keep it in anymore.

"Well, ideally you shouldn't have gone to her in the first place. You should've come directly to me. And even if you did go to her, you shouldn't have asked her to make the changes herself." I said out loud. Fuck. Breathe, Tara.

"So, it's my fault, then?" he said.

"if you say so," I replied.

Pushing off the table, he unfolded his arms while strolling over to me, "You work for me. You shouldn't tell me what I should or shouldn't do." He said, smugly.

Oh, the nerve. 

"Excuse me?" I began, "I don't work for you. I work for Bighit. And so do you. If anything, I work with you, definitely not for  you. So, you shouldn't be telling me what to do either," I said. 

My heart was pounding in my chest. Having said what I had to, I turned on my heel and marched out of the room. 

So, he definitely isn't shy, then. Just rude.