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knjsagustd · 3 years

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either side of sunrise | jjk 04

Frustration coils in my gut. There are multiple problems with this situation. The biggest problem is that if the two of us weren’t in the public eye - to quote many a cheesy rom com “just a guy and a girl” - I could have gone up to him and explained the situation. That doesn’t really matter, because I’m not “just a girl” and Jungkook isn’t “just a guy”.

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→ idol!Jungkook x actress!OC (Aurora Kim-Wiseman)

→ w/c: 4.6k

→ warnings:

→ a/n

Digby, who is an angel for putting up with me, shakes their head and passes my phone to me before going back to whatever they’re doing to my hair. I apologise, my sharp movement when the notification appeared on my screen had almost led to a burn on my neck. Which is not what you want the first time you attend the Grammys. But the possibility of injury doesn’t stop the smile that spreads across my face.

JJK: I’m far too excited about being in the same city as you.

A blush is joining the smile, heat creeping up my neck, as another message appears on my lock screen. Once again, as I have been since this started, I am so thankful that we text in Korean. It means no one knows how little it takes for Jungkook to make me blush. How far off the deep end I am.

JJK: The guys are making fun of me because we haven’t even agreed when to meet.

JJK: Jimin said to tell you that he still wants to know your bias. And if you say it’s not him again he’ll cry.

I unlock my phone and reply.

Me: im excited too. my team are so done with me right now, im a hazard and its your fault.

The reply is near instantaneous and it makes me giggle. Digby gives me a fond, if exasperated, look.

JJK: 🥺🥺 you’re excited to see me.

Me: stoppp. youre so needy. jimin knows that i’m taking that secret to the grave.

JJK: You should’ve just said it was me - everything would be much easier

Me: you’re asking me to lie????? to besmirch my honour?

JJK: Stab me in the heart. It would hurt less.

Tonight isn’t about me, though, no matter how much the team of stylists makes it seem so. James Guthrie - who is one of my best and oldest friends - released his debut album ‘cloudwalker’ and he’s nominated for Best New Artist. I’m his date, strictly as friends. Digby has been shaking their head at me all day. I think they’re concerned about how I’ve been twitchy and blushing all day because of one boy but I’m attending the ceremony with another. But James and I have never been that way. In fact one of the things I’m most sure of is that nothing will ever happen between James and I. Apart from that one time we had drunk sex. We agreed it was too weird and should never be spoken of again.

James walks in as my dress is being zipped up.

“Cutting it close aren’t we?” He says, not looking up from his phone. He arranges himself in a curatedly careless manner on the sofa. His floral patterned suit really pulls the whole visual together. It’s very modern Oscar Wilde - which is probably exactly what he was going for. Then he looks me up and down.

“Remind me why we aren’t hopelessly in love?” This is his version of complimenting me.

“Our romance would be too powerful, they would sing songs of our tragic tale for centuries. I couldn’t do that to the world,” I say with faux drama, perching on the arm of the sofa.

“Oh and here I thought it was because having sex with you felt incestuous. Oh and let’s not forget, even if it didn’t your heart now belongs to another.”

I try, and fail, not to go bright red. But another notification goes off on my phone. It’s like the world is trying to back up his point. James smiles like the cat that got the canary as he reaches for it before me. There are no prizes for guessing who it's from. He gives me my phone with a flourish.

“The fact you two text in Korean makes teasing you much harder.”

I stick my tongue out at him as I take the phone.

JJK: We’re leaving. Save me.

After reading the notification I drop my phone into my clutch. Standing up I offer my hand to James.

“No need to be jealous, you know you’re the only one for me. Now, come on, you have a red carpet to walk and an award to receive.”

*****

Things I didn’t expect upon walking onto the Grammys red carpet with my best friend’s arm around my waist - making no effort to dissuade the articles already being typed about our non-existent relationship: BTS being one photo/interview spot ahead of us. But Chance sometimes decides she has a bone to pick with me.

James’ hand is tugging me closer. No doubt he’s also noticed the boys - who haven’t noticed me yet - and is fully aware of the panic spiral I’m swiftly sinking towards. Why didn’t I tell him I was attending the ceremony? Why did I think surprising him was a good idea? (I was avoiding having to explain the situation of being another man’s date, because I'm a coward who is trying to ignore why that feels bad.) I hitch a smile on my face as pictures are taken, just nodding while they send us meaningless platitudes about my dress or how sweet we look together. It takes all my professionalism not to roll my eyes as soon as we’re moving to the next spot. This one is an interview, thankfully after greeting us both James is the one they want to talk to. As it should be. While he gushes about how amazing it is to be here, my eyes wander. Though, ‘wander’ isn’t wholly accurate, because I have a purpose. And he’s looking right at me. Just ahead of us, not paying full attention to the interviewer Namjoon is talking to, Jungkook is barely making an effort to not look at me. The smile that makes its way onto my face now is leagues away from the one I have for the press. It’s soft and goes hand in hand with the blush I’m willing away from my cheeks. He looks so handsome in his suit, I can feel my knees weaken a little bit. I feel like a schoolgirl with her first crush. Especially as he gives me a little smile too. Then Jin is patting him on the shoulder, tugging him to the next spot.

And so it goes. James and I wade through the red carpet, laughing off questions about our relationship as he volleys with interviewers and I pose, only metres away from BTS. All the while I’m stealing glances at Jungkook. Who is stealing glances at me. Sometimes our eyes meet and I feel a little bit breathless. Maia might kill me because we aren’t being the most subtle. The last thing I need is Jungkook’s literal army of fans scrutinising me, or the press wondering about why I’m a blushy mess over him while another man’s arm is wrapped around me. Neither is good press.

I’m relieved when James and I are being guided to our seats. I can breathe again. Once the cameras are gone, James is teasing me. In a low whisper, so no one else can hear us, he’s just monologuing about how far gone I am for a man I’ve met once. But he rounds everything off by saying he thinks Jungkook is just as far gone as me. Which makes me blush. As soon as we're sitting down I fish my phone out of my purse. A laugh jerks out of James when there are multiple notifications from Jungkook lighting up the screen.

JJK: You didn’t say you’d be here.

JJK: Is that your boyfriend? Of course you have a boyfriend.

JJK: You look nice together.

JJK: You look beautiful.

My eyes widen at the assumption Jungkook has made. I want to laugh, like I always do when people assume things about me and James, but it’s strangled in my throat. The very last thing I want is for Jungkook to think I’ve been stringing him along for eight months. I whirl around, shocking James who is trying very hard to manifest the ability to read Hangul. It takes a few seconds of, not at all subtly, scanning the room to find BTS. They’re about four rows behind us diagonally. They are looking around the hall too, each of their gazes landing on me and pointedly looking away in turn. Except Jungkook, who isn’t even pretending not to look at me anymore. His eyes are wide, Namjoon is next to him speaking while occasionally flicking his eyes to me. My stomach flips under the weight of their gaze. I barely look away as I text him back, my fingers flying across the screen.

Me: he’s not my boyfriend. i promise.

I hold my breath after sending the text. It’s weird watching Jungkook react as his phone buzzes in his hand. For a second after the text goes through he keeps looking at me. Then he tears his eyes away. I can see the way his posture adjusts as he types back. In my hand my phone vibrates.

JJK: It’s fine, don’t worry about it.

I groan. James is watching what’s going on with baited breath. He has no clue, only that there is something happening. That doesn’t stop him though, he’s always lived for drama. Especially when I’m the one involved.

Me: jeon jungkook.

Me: james is my best friend.

Me: he brought me bc we were both in la and i was annoyed at him for taking his mum

to the brits when taylor swift was going to be there instead of me.

Me: i promise there is nothing romantic btwn me and james - i would literally rather die

After I finish my furious typing I just keep looking at Jungkook. Multi-texting isn’t usually my thing. The desperation of it normally turns me off. But the situation kind of called for it. Beside me James is begging to know what is going on, tugging at my elbow and whining like a toddler. When Jungkook doesn’t seem to be reacting I huff, turn around and drop back to my seat. Keeping my phone face up in my hand, I explain the situation. My best and oldest friend laughs at the predicament he caused. I hit him. It earns me a look from his agent, who has just slipped in next to us, but he deserves it. Judging by the way she regards me for a moment then shrugs she understands that. Sometimes you just need to hit James - it’s the only way to get through to him.

It’s not until the host - America’s favourite Englishman (and one of England’s least favourite) James Corden - takes the stage that my phone buzzes. It takes everything in me not to turn around. Instead I look down at the LED screen in my lap, heart beating far more than necessary.

JJK: You don’t owe me an explanation.

Frustration coils in my gut. There are multiple problems with this situation. Some are long term and have been hanging over me for eight months. Others pertain to what is happening right now, on my phone screen, in my head and four rows behind me diagonally. The biggest problem is that if the two of us weren’t in the public eye - to quote many a cheesy rom com “just a guy and a girl” - I could have gone up to him and explained the situation. Forced him to understand that James just broke up with a fairly long term boyfriend and I’m an idiot who fell half in love with him through a phone screen. But the first one of those really isn’t my business to share. The second doesn’t really matter, because I’m not “just a girl” and Jungkook isn’t “just a guy”. The other problems include but are not limited to; Jungkook being stubborn; Jungkook not trusting me; Jungkook not listening to me and me agreeing to come to this award show anyway. I hate award shows, they make me anxious. But James asked and I can’t say no to him.

Biting the inside of my lip I drop my phone back into my purse. If he doesn’t want to listen I won’t force him to. The idea of giving up this easily leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. But I'm not going to derail what is supposed to be James’ night with my drama. No matter how much he would probably enjoy that. Next to me, James sends a questioning look. I just shake my head in reply. Focusing on James Corden, I nestle back into my chair, pointedly ignoring the seven pairs of eyes I can feel on my back.

James’ award is only the fourth to be presented. It’s a competitive category. His grip on my hand as they wind towards announcing it is white knuckled. When he comes up on the big screen as they say his name among the nominees he’s smiling. Only me and his agent know him well enough to see how fake it is. I doubt anyone is looking at his hands. How mine is being crushed in one of them. They call the winner and the three of us just sit there stunned for a moment. People are clapping. The cameras are back on the three of us. I’m laughing and pulling James into a hug even as he sits there blankly. His agent has to push him out of his seat and up to the stage. His acceptance speech is an endearingly babbled mess. It includes shout outs to his agent, his mum, and me;

“And, uh, Rory, my best-friend, I wouldn’t be up here without you.”

I’m fairly sure I’m crying, and it’s being shown live on international television. It’s not the first time I’ve cried in front of millions of people - I seem to play characters who cry frequently - but it’s probably going to go down as my favourite. They’re happy tears. The version of me that was shown on the big screen was smiling, a tear-choked laugh bubbling out of her. James is ushered off the stage to get his picture taken with the award and face the press. The lights go down for another performance. And I get out of my seat, apologising as I squeeze past James’ agent, to go to the loo. In the logical part of my brain I am aware that Digby would not have used any makeup that would run. However, there’s still a part of me that can’t let go of the nights I spent drunk and crying in various bathrooms, and it needs to check if there’s damage. Just for my own peace of mind.

My makeup is - unsurprisingly - fine. But I spend more time than necessary in the bathroom. I slowly wash my hands, just looking at my reflection. My face is familiar - which I’m always thankful for - Digby understands how much I need to see myself in the face that stares back. The makeup is light, if you didn’t know I was wearing it you wouldn’t guess. Apart from the obvious eyeliner. Everything is just a tint, designed for that ‘your skin but better’ look that feels obnoxious to say. My hair falls in waves, a bit tousled now and if it weren’t for all the sprays and creams Digby put in it would have started to frizz in the auditorium’s heat. But the key thing is I can see myself. I dry my hands just as slowly. Then, unable to stop myself, I take my phone from my purse.

There are some new likes on my latest instagram post. Nothing new from Jungkook. I stare at the last notification - the one I decided not to reply to - and wonder how we got to this point so fast. One miscommunication and it all comes crashing down. Everything we built over the last eight months falling apart because I didn’t tell him I was coming to this ceremony and he won’t listen to me. It’s ironic considering it’s foundations are our ability to listen to each other and not needing to explain. How so much was based on how we manage to just understand each other. This is what my therapist tried to warn me about. You can’t just get attached to people when they can’t promise permanence. Otherwise you end up willing yourself not to cry or scream in the ladies restroom of the Staples Centre.

Taking a deep breath I push down the feelings threatening to boil over inside me. Methodically I replace them with happiness for my best friend. My Grammy Award Winning best friend. The person who this night should be about. I’m going to walk out of this bathroom with a smile on my face and sit down next to him. We’ll spend the next few hours watching the ceremony, having fun and making fun of everyone else. Then he’ll drag me to the after party where I’ll make sure he doesn’t go too hard. It’ll be a good night. I won’t think about Jeon Jungkook or BTS. I will ignore the way it feels like that unreplied to text is burning a hole through my phone. Everything will be okay.

Except it won’t.

I step out of the bathroom and I almost walk into a hard body.

“Oh my God. I’m so so sorry,” I say as I step back.

“It is my fault. I was in front of the door.”

I know that voice. It’s ingrained into the folds of my brain. Granted hearing it speak English is unfamiliar - but it still awakens that fluttering in my chest. I look up and Jeon Jungkook is looking back at me. He’s so far removed from the Jungkook I met in person at Graham Norton. I was aware of his hair growing out and the blond dye - I wasn’t sure of it the first time I saw it on facetime but it’s grown on me. It’s different to see it close up, in person. To be able to reach out and brush away the strand that has fallen in front of his face. I saw him in his suit on the red carpet, but seeing it like this, an arm’s length away, almost knocks the breath out of me. It’s honestly unfair how good he always manages to look.

The familiarity of the situation punches me in the gut. Walking into him, the words tumbling from me, his arms holding me up. They say history repeats but I don’t think they expected an eight month cycle. For a second I wonder if he orchestrated it like that. But I know he wouldn’t. Because I know him. I’ve spent eight months learning every little thing about him. Falling in love with him. And I thought he might have been falling for me too. But clearly it wasn’t enough for him to trust me when I say I’m not dating someone. The thoughts sour the way my heart leapt to my throat at the sight of him.

“Hello Jungkook.” I switch to Korean as I step back from him, bowing slightly as I do so. His hand goes to follow me but he lets it drop at my cool tone.

“Rory,” he sounds almost breathless as he says my name. It takes all my strength to not melt. I’m thankful that all these years of acting have given me such a good poker face.

“I should go back to my seat. Good luck with your performance,” I say. I move to leave but he catches the arm that brushes against him. Feeling his hand on my bare arm sends electricity coursing through me. It almost offsets the alarm bells that are ringing at the idea of someone seeing this. I look up at him, eyes wide, begging him to understand that this can’t happen right now. If pictures emerge of this moment, taken when I’m at this event with James, it’s my career on the chopping block. Maia will kill me before either man’s fans can. Mercifully he drops my arm.

“I’m sorry. But please...”

Biting my lip, I look around. There’s no one nearby but you never know when someone may decide they need the bathroom. But there is a security camera watching this whole thing. I make direct eye contact with it over Jungkook’s shoulder. Is it too late now? If the person watching the security screens was going to leak this then they would have everything they need. There aren’t cameras in the bathrooms, but that one will see me take him in there. That’s how rumours are made. But what do I have to lose at this point? (The answer is my entire career.) Making the decision, I sigh and pull him with me, back into the empty ladies bathroom. If there’s going to be a fire I may as well douse it in petrol if it means saving whatever this is. If there’s going to be fallout Maia will kill me before I have to face it.

Once we’re inside I turn to face him. He’s looking at me with those big doe eyes that just make me melt. Again, I find myself pushing down the annoying heart flutters, trying to remember that I’m pissed at him.

“What,” is all I say, motioning for him to speak.

“Rory,” he begins, stepping towards me, “I’m - I’m really sorry, for not listening to you, for jumping to conclusions, and now cornering you here.”

“Why didn’t you believe me? I thought we got each other, I’ve never lied to you before”

(Other than by omission because I’m a coward who can’t tell a boy I like him, but that’s not what this is about.)

“I know. I just got in my head and, uh, I know I shouldn’t but I got jealous.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I know it’s dumb and I’m sorry but I get jealous because I want to be around you like that. Sharing inside jokes, making you laugh or blush while I have my arm around you. And I’ve spent the last eight months watching other people get that and then when I see you in person for the first time, looking so beautiful, there’s another guy getting to do everything I lie awake at night wishing I could do.”

“Jungkook… James and I are totally platonic.” Jungkook lets out an embarrassed groan at that, because now that he’s not blinded by idotic jealousy it’s so obvious. Taking a deep breath, I continue. Here goes nothing;

“Also you realise that tonight all our injokes were about my massive crush on you, and everytime I blushed on that red carpet it was because of you?”

Jungkook just looks at me for a second, head cocked and eyes wide. I bite back an exasperated smile. Raising my eyebrows at him I wait for this information to compute. Personally, I didn’t think my crush was that subtle. Yes, I wasn’t openly stating it but you’d have to be blind not to notice. Even people that don’t know about Jungkook - so everyone apart from James and my therapist - tease me about being in love. The light turns back on behind Jungkook’s eyes and a small smile breaks across his face.

“...You have a crush on me?”

I could hit him. I might kiss him.

“Yeah. You, um, you lie awake at night thinking about me?”

Red blossoms across Jungkook’s golden cheeks. He ducks his head, refusing to meet my eyes.

“Not, like, in a creepy way,” he mumbles.

In a moment of reckless abandon I reach out and take his hand. That gets his attention. He’s looking straight at me, eyes wide. The young man I’ve gotten to know is replaced by the doe-eyed fifteen year old in those early videos Olivia and Daniel like to coo over. I can’t believe that after everything, every step forward we’ve taken and all our non-confessions it’s happening. He steps towards me as I search around for words. International playboy my arse - he looks as nervous as I feel.

“I know. I, er, I do the same. Also not in a, uh, creepy way,” I stutter. Jungkook’s hand has drifted up to cup my jaw and it’s honestly extremely distracting.

Unconsciously my free hand has drifted up to rest on his waist. The other one is still holding Jungkook’s hand, he’s changed the grip so our fingers are interlocked. He’s barely a hair’s breadth away from me now. Our lips our ghosting over each other, neither of us quite ready to break this last barrier. I can taste his breath, it’s minty and fresh. (He probably keeps a pack of mints on him - a lot of singers do because breath gets stinky real fast when you’re singing all day. I do it too, granted because I spend a lot of time up close and personal with other actors and I don’t need garlic breath then.) His brown eyes are staring into mine, searching for any flicker of doubt. That small smile drifts back onto his face, making my knees weak.

“You have a crush on me,” he says in a teasing voice, nudging my nose with his before dipping the last millimetre to finally kiss me.

To say it’s like fireworks would be cliche and wrong. His touch is electric, sending lighting through my veins as he uses the hand cupping my cheek to tilt my face into his. It’s soft and chaste, a brush more than a kiss. But I feel like there are exclamation points in my chest. Or those big block capital buzzfeed ‘YES!’s, just clamouring in my ribcage. I’ve kissed people before; people I wanted to kiss, people I had to kiss, people I barely remember kissing, and this is so different. So much better. I never want to stop being allowed to kiss Jungkook.

As he moves away I follow him. Eight months, I’ve been waiting for this, I’m not letting him get away with a disney channel approved moment. I lift my hand from his waist, tangling it through his hair (apologies to his stylist) and drawing him back to me. He smiles into the kiss, letting go of my hand to place his on my waist, pressing me to him. My dress is going to be a mess after this but I honestly don’t care. Not when the way he holds me to him is setting the warmth through me, butterflies fluttering through my veins. In all this time, all the mistakes I’ve made or romances I’ve filmed, I’ve never been kissed like this. The juxtaposition of wanting, desire finally being allowed to bubble over, and softness, as though he doesn’t want to break me. I’m so fucked.

After what feels both like eternity and no time at all I place a hand on his chest, pushing him away. A breathless half laugh falls from him as we break apart. He presses his forehead against mine, eyes still closed. I need a second to recover too. My brain is all mixed up, I can barely think in English let alone speak Korean right at this moment. So we stand there, foreheads pressed against each other, smiling and breathing heavily, until we’re ready to speak. I stroke my fingers through his hair as I regain myself.

“We should go back to our seats.” I’m greeted with a small whine from Jungkook, it makes me giggle like a schoolgirl. I pat his chest with the hand that’s still resting there. “C’mon, people are probably wondering where we are.”

“Don’t care,” he says. “Been waiting too long for this.”

I smile, a blushing rising onto my cheeks.

“We just need to get through the ceremony,” I promise, pushing him off me.

#bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook #jungkook x oc #fic:esos

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sagedumortain · 3 years

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want / need / dread

thank you so much @masonshine for the tag, that was so interesting to think about for my characters (even though this isn’t all of them) ♡

One thing your OCs want to hear, one thing they need to hear and one they dread to hear.

sage montgomery (the wayhaven chronicles): you are doing a great job / you cannot please everyone and that’s okay / you’re weak

annabelle kingston (the wayhaven chronicles): who you are is enough / you need to let yourself feel your feelings / you’re impossible to love

theodora foster (the wayhaven chronicles): people will love you for who you are / you need to move on / the people you love will always leave you

penny hawthorne (keeper of the sun and moon): it’s okay not to know the answer to a question / you cannot do this alone / your parents will never love you again

willow schuyler (golden): you don’t owe people your forgiveness / don’t be suspicious of everyone trying to get to know you / you would be nothing without your father’s influence

leonora reyes (golden): everything will be alright / not every issue can be easily fixed / people only get close to you to use you

austen maddox (bodycount game): you will succeed / loving someone doesn’t mean losing yourself / you will always lose

esta koyî (a tale of crowns): you will not lose yourself / kindness is not a weakness despite what some people might say / it was all for nothing

evie callahan (when twilight strikes): you will never forget them / it’s impossible to prepare for every single posibility / you are a failure

aurora wiseman (blindmind): you are not broken / this was not your fault / you’ll only ever bring misery to the people you love

briar kalesko (the exile): i still love you / you cannot avoid your past forever / every path you take will only lead to tragedy

#please ask me questions about my ocs! i'd welcome them truly #the wayhaven chronicles #twc #keeper of the sun and moon #golden #golden if #a tale of crowns #atoc #when twilight strikes #the midnight hours #mindblind #the exile #the exile if #body count game #body count if

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pearlcscent · 3 years

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isabela. 20s. she/her.

a blog for original characters, fashion, art, tv shows, and a sprinkle of k-pop.

oc directory and links under the cut .・。.・゜

— 𝐨𝐜 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 ⋆ˊˎ-

∘ interactive fiction

genevieve lim, the wayhaven chronicles eleanora de luca, the wayhaven chronicles nolan wiseman, mind blind gravity beauchamp, the fernweh saga aspen vinteren, checkmate in 3 moves teagan james, golden falina black, ofna: birds of a feather serena quill, the midnight hours

∘ original

opal beckerman, vigilante, heiress & ballerina

∘ braverman bay (small town by the ocean)

phoebe park lola park, student & debate team captain frederick ryu, ceo of a restaurant franchise grayson ryu, med student brianna hart, artist & small business owner pooja vishwakarma, inn manager gabriel “gabi” salomon, contractor

∘ idolverse

kim sora, pixy son yeeun, pixy oh siwan, ares kang taek, domino hwang minwoo, re:new park dohwan, domino do gayoung, amore seo jihyun, y2k

∘ night terrors

rowena van hove, vampire sim kinam, vampire sim kihoon, vampire sim yoora, vampire scottie van hove sim, dark angel verona van hove sim, faerie sage hendricks, hybrid werewolf romi van hove sim, tbd andrei sim, hybrid vampire angelica novais, succubus pearl, witch

∘ offspring

frederick x ara, effie & lia & finley & willa & jude

eleanora x mason, tessa & isaac & madeleine

rowena x kinam, andrei & socttie & verona & sage & romi

∘ ouro sobre azul (original)

— time travel; romance; royalty; generations.

vincent ferricamo x ines avelino. • offspring: teresa ferricamo x santiago vásquez matilde ferricamo x eline highbury (married to jack highbury) carolina ferricamo leonardo ferricamo x aurora valkendorf-helsingør

∘ auburn hill (original)

— gilmore girls inspired; single mum; small town; family; romance.

milena moreno (the lorelai) halle moreno (the rory) richie dennings (the christopher) rahul bhakta (the luke) grace soriano (the lane) kelly hasegawa (the sookie) casey atkins (the dean)

∘ links

wanted connections

art blog

* — open for plotting!

#about #pinned

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knjsagustd · 3 years

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either side of sunrise | jjk 05

We start smiling at each other again when we part. I’m getting the sense that this may become a theme. Taking moments to revel in the pure joy of whatever this is. After a second Jungkook nods, as though placing a full stop in the moment, and starts leading me down the stairs.

prev | next | series masterlist | playlist

→ idol!Jungkook x actress!OC (Aurora Kim-Wiseman)

→ w/c: 3.7k

→ warnings: as usual; discussions of mental illness

→ a/n: i’m back(ish). i’m in my final year of uni, so work is a bitch and writing is difficult to find time for, but i really love this story and these characters so i managed to write this. i hope you enjoy it 💛💛

I check my make up again before we leave. Digby is a magician (or just uses very good quality stuff) because it doesn’t seem to have really budged. However, I do have to rub my thumb across Jungkook’s lips where there is a shadow of my lipstick painting them a little bit too pink. The way he looks at me as I do it, all tender and sparkly, is something that I don’t think I’ll ever forget. But I really don’t have the time to examine that right now. He gives my hand a little squeeze before we exit the bathroom and go our separate ways.

James is back in his seat when I return. His agent is staring boredly at the stage but he’s got this self-satisfied grin, complete with wiggling eyebrows.

“Your lipstick’s smudged,” he whispers once I’ve retaken my seat.

“No it’s not,” I reply, refusing to give him any reaction. I stay completely straight faced as I continue, “I checked.”

Thankfully the fact we’re in a packed theatre with cameras potentially watching our every move save me from the over reaction that James would normally have to that tidbit.

“Aurora Ha-yoon Kim-Wiseman, are you telling me that you have a reason for your lipstick to be smudged?”

I roll my lips between my teeth, biting back the smile threatening at them, as James leans into my space. He’s wiggling his eyebrows manically at me.

“Would this reason happen to have the initials JJK? Hmm? Hmmmm?”

I roll my eyes before turning to face him. He’s a lot closer than I thought he’d be, he’s barely an inch away from me. I push his face away, my smile cracks through as his head turns and bounces away.

“No, I kissed a random stranger in the bathroom… what do you think?”

I didn’t think it was possible but James’ grin widens. I wait for the shoe to drop - whatever extremely inappropriate thing he’s going to whisper and promptly be met with violence from both me and his agent who is definitely listening - but James just nods. He ducks his head, smiles, and settles back into his chair. I’m tempted to dig at him, find out what’s going on inside his head but I don’t want to push my luck. He’s probably just stocking it for after the ceremony.

The Grammys last around two and half hours after that. I spend the entire time trying not to look around at Jungkook. It’s especially hard because I know BTS are performing but according to the program they’re last. It’s like the organisers were trying to test me specifically. James is nudging me in that obnoxious, highschool, way when they’re introduced. I’m sure that if I look over at him he’ll be grinning from ear to ear, wiggling his eyebrows and dodging his agent who really deserves a raise. Everytime I watch BTS perform in person is different but it’s always amazing. The energy is always infectious and I can’t help the smile on my face. This time I know when Jungkook looks at me it’s not just a fluke, or the lighting playing tricks on me. I know that when Jimin nudges him as they scatter from the chorus choreo that I’m the joke. In the best way possible. Seeing Jungkook perform is magical. This is natural habitat; in the same way I’m nothing without a script and camera, Jungkook belongs on stage - sharing his gift with the world. To think there's a universe where he may not get to do this is impossible.

Jungkook texts me after the ceremony finishes. I’m just gathering my stuff when I feel my phone buzz in my clutch.

JJK: Backstage, dressing room 4.

I don’t even think before I’m typing out a reply.

Me: coming.

There’s an after party I’m meant to be going to. I know for a fact that BTS won’t be there. They don’t normally go to that sort of thing, especially not outside Korea. But I can be late. Or not go, tell Maia I was feeling sick when she asks why no one is reporting my appearance. Tell James the truth, he’d rather I did this than spend the night looking out for him. I catch him as we stand to leave. He hugs me after I tell him.

“Get it girl,” he whispers to me, so not even his agent can hear. “Don’t do anything I would do.”

I laugh as we part.

“That means far less than you think it does.”

He just nods, a proud smile on his face.

Jungkook is pacing back and forth backstage, flipping his phone in his hands, when I round the corner to the dressing room. Despite the fact that all I want to do is run to him, I walk slowly over. Trying not to draw any attention to us. He stops when he sees me, a puppy dog smile spreading over his face.

“Hey,” he says when I reach him. I see his hand flex as his side.

“Hey.”

For a moment we just stand there looking at each other, smiling. It’s not an awkward silence. Just happy. Being in each other's presence is enough. My heart is doing flips in my chest and I literally can’t stop the smile on my face. I’m an actress, I should be better at controlling my emotions than this. Jungkook looks around, cautiously, for a second before stepping closer to me. He ghosts his hand down my arm before taking me, interlocking our fingers.

“Rory Kim-Wiseman,” he starts, stopping to let out a small, embarrassed, chuckle. “Do you want to go on a date with me?”

“Jeon Jungkook… I would love that.”

With that he tugs my arm, guiding me towards an emergency exit I hadn’t even noticed. It leads out into a stairwell. As soon as we’re through the doors he takes a second to pull me into him. His free hand instantly runs through my hair and draws me into a kiss. I snake my hand up to tangle in the hair at the back of his head. Pressing myself further into him. Kissing him is like drinking cold water after waking up in the night. I never want to stop. We start smiling at each other again when we part. I’m getting the sense that this may become a theme. Taking moments to revel in the pure joy of whatever this is. After a second Jungkook nods, as though placing a full stop in the moment, and starts leading me down the stairs.

They lead down to the Staples centre employee parking, far from prying eyes. Waiting near where we exit is a black car. It’s familiar in that way that this sort of car is familiar to every celebrity. Big, black, with tinted windows. The sort of car I’ve always sat in the back of in LA.

Mark, who has been head of my security team for years, is waiting by the car. Instantly his eyes zone in on mine and Jungkook’s joined hands. It feels like being caught by my dad. Which is not wholly inaccurate given that Mark has been looking after me since Introducing Me.

“You two sneakin’ off,” he says, smirking as he leans against the car. Another man steps out of the driver’s seat, broad and Korean. There’s a fond smile on his face, directed at Jungkook. He tosses a bag to Jungkook.

“You have three hours, we will come too,” he says, sharing a smile with Mark. Jungkook rolls his eyes, opening the bag. It’s full of clothes. He hands me a black hoodie. I pull it on quickly, thankful for the warmth it provides. I ignore everyone’s eyes as I pull the hood up around my cheeks, making sweater paws with the sleeves, and breathe in the Jungkook smell ingrained in it.

“I couldn’t get a change of clothes for you, but you seem happy enough,” Mark says with a wink before slinging himself into the front passenger seat. And I’m left standing there with a blush burning across my cheeks. Jungkook has left me to speak in rapid fire Korean with his security guy. But he keeps looking at me. Our eyes meet, with me still pressing his hoodie to my face, and the little smile he sends me makes my heart stutter. Feeling caught, I fumble for the door and tuck myself inside. It’s a bit of a trial considering that I’m still wearing a gown. In front of me Mark is laughing at my antics. I kick his chair in retaliation. He manages to calm himself as Jungkook and his guy take their seats. Before he starts the car Jungkook’s bodyguard twists around, offering me a handshake.

“I am happy to finally meet you, Miss Aurora, Jungkook speaks of you frequently and highly. I am Kang Chi-Hoon.”

Beside me Jungkook groans, sinking into the seat. I shoot a smile towards him before shaking Chi-Hoon’s hand, bowing as deeply as I can given my position. I like the reminder that I’m not alone in this. That Jungkook is just as far down this rabbit hole as I am. Chi-Hoon’s hand is warm but not clammy, comforting in a way. I might be imagining the soft squeeze he gives me before releasing my hand to face the front. It’s accompanied by a smile that reminds me of Mark. Smiles from security people fill me with warmth. They don’t tend to give those out very often - it serves their profession better to seem intimidating and unapproachable. Chi-Hoon’s smile is soft, so natural that I can’t imagine it not being there. And feels like support, a reminder that this is exactly where I’m supposed to be.

As Chi-Hoon drives, Jungkook's hand slides into mine. It happens so slowly I don’t even realise it is until his thumb is lightly caressing the back of my hand. There’s still an entire seat between us. More space than us entirely necessary in the privacy of the car and it’s tinted windows. Chi-Hoon and Mark are focusing pointedly on the road, fully aware of what they’re enabling. I squeeze Jungkook’s hand lightly, staring out the window. Even as we speed past the landmarks of my wasted years he grounds me. His warm hand and presence remind me that I’m not her anymore. Not a ghost, high on LSD, wondering if waiting for the traffic lights is worth it when there’s a car speeding towards me. Usually Mark avoids taking me this way, favouring main roads to save me from my memories. Chi-Hook doesn’t know to do that. And on a night like tonight - leaving the Grammy after party early with Jungkook beside me - side streets are a necessary evil. They’re a shield against prying eyes as much the tinted windows.

Our first stop is a Taco Bell, the one near Santa Monica Airport. I forget how big LA is. Even at this time it takes almost an hour to get here from the Staples Centre. Granted, taking the I-10 would have been quicker. But then again, I wouldn’t have gotten to spend an hour holding Jungkook’s hand and stealing blush glances at him with no repercussions. It’s hard not to look at him. There’s this ache in my chest that just calls out for the sight of him. I’m not looking forward to when tonight ends. Going back to texts and facetime calls feels impossible after knowing what the real thing is like.

“What’re you wantin’ Jeon?” Mark asks as we pull towards the drive thru window. I roll my eyes at the tone he’s taken, playing the role of intimidating father when mine is not around. He doesn’t ask what I want because I’ve been ordering the same thing on our midnight food adventures since I was twelve. Jungkook, however, clearly was not expecting this and looks like a deer in the headlights. It takes a second - as he works through the translation in his head - before he replies. I smile at his overly polite and respectful attitude towards Mark. Something that Mark is also enjoying. He takes so much joy from how people perceive him as intimidating - which is good for his chosen profession. In reality he is a golden retriever in human form. Or maybe a husky. I give Jungkook’s hand another squeeze. The way his entire demeanour changes in reply brings back that ache.

Once we have our food - and lots of napkins for me because no one wants to chance getting anything on my dress - Chi-Hoon begins driving again. This time the ride only lasts about fifteen minutes. A laugh bubbles out of me as we slow to a stop looking over Venice Beach, towards the bright lights of Santa Monica Pier. There’s still people about. There are always people about in LA. But there are considerably less than usual. All of them too caught up in their own worlds to notice Jungkook and I.

“You have an hour, use it well,” Chi-Hoon says, twisting round to face us again.

“There are blankets in the trunk, Maia will kill me if y’all get sand on that dress.”

Jungkook gets out first, walking around the car to get the blanket from the boot. I shuffle forward so I’m barely in the chair. Wrapping my arms around the chair and Mark, as far as I can reach, I say quietly;

“Thank you.” I punctuate it with a kiss to his cheek. Pulling back I continue, “but you know Maia is already going to kill you for enabling this, right?”

He shrugs.

“Worth it to see that smile.”

I don’t manage to exit the car gracefully. It’s too high up and my skirt too uncooperative. Jungkook gives me a hand, which stops me from falling over. The added factor of heels really doesn’t help. Why Mark couldn’t have at least sourced me a pair of trainers is beyond me. Jungkook doesn’t let go of my hand once I’m situated on solid ground. Instead he chooses to simply adjust the position so we can walk hand in hand. Before we step onto the sand I tug him over to a bench. Using one hand I fumble with the buckle of my heels. I’m not walking on sand in heels if I can help it. I carry them in my free hand as we finally step onto the sand.

We walk slowly; savouring the quiet and relishing the anonymity. It’s easy to pretend right now. To forget that this can’t be our reality. We shake out the blankets a few feet from the water’s edge. The tide is coming in, but we won’t be here long enough for it to touch us. I push aside the lurch in my chest that comes as I envision Jungkook and I’s future in a series of snatched moments. Now is not the time. I can’t plan the ending when we’ve only just begun. Instead I let Jungkook pull me down onto the blanket, situating me in his arms. His fingers begin to play with my hair, brushing out Digby’s carefully crafted curls. I hum, the sensation dissipating all tension from my body.

“What is your favourite colour,” Jungkook asks, in english after a moment.

“Yellow,” I reply easily. Jungkook nods, one of his hands going to play with the dandelion material of my dress. “Like honey yellow. What’s yours”

“Black.”

“That’s not a colour, it’s a shade,” I quip. Jungkook laughs, the pure joy of the sound feels like flying.

“You’re pretentious,” he replies, switching to Korean. I push myself up - immediately missing his warmth - to look at him incredulously.

“Really? I’m the pretentious one? Mr ‘my favourite colour is black’, ‘I only drink black coffee’ ‘I’m good a literally anything I try’?”

“Okay, okay,” Jungkook laughs, guiding me back down. “You’re right, I'm the pretentious one.”

“Thank you.”

He smiles down at me, brushing the displaced hair off my face. I think he’s doing the same thing I am. Memorising this moment, so there’s something to hold onto when it's over. I want the image of him, bathed in moonlight and staring, like I’m the only thing in the world worth looking at - etched into the backs of my eyelids. Maybe even my soul. Of it’s own accord my hand comes up to trace his features, mapping his face. If this was a movie this would be one of those endlessly giffed moments. The camera would do a close up. The entire fifty foot screen devoted to the view of my fingers, the rose coloured nail polish and silver rings glinting in the moonlight, dancing over Jungkook’s perfect lips. One of those times in the cinema where you can barely breathe. My fingers glide back, tangling into his hair. Using that I bring him into a short kiss. I’ve been yearning to kiss him again since the bathroom. There’s something addictive about it. Being the person Jeon Jungkook doesn’t want to stop kissing. I let him go, this isn’t the best position for prolonged kissing. His eyes flutter open, a soft smile spreading across his face.

As our stolen hour comes to an end I’m sitting up right, leaning back into Jungkook’s chest. Our hands are intertwined inside the pocket of the hoodie. We’ve spent the last hour alternating between making out, like the make free teenagers we never got to be, and just talking. I never want it to end.

“Do you ever want to run away? Give it all up and just fade into obscurity,” I say, more to the moon than Jungkook. I’m not really looking for an answer. But I feel the vibrations in Jungkook’s chest as he hums his acknowledgement.

“Yeah, I’ll never do it. But I think about it a lot. I’ve got it all planned, have since I was about fifteen.”

“You want to tell me.”

“Okay, but you can’t go stealing it,” I joke, twisting to look at him. He laughs, tucking me closer to him. As I turn my face back to the sea he leans to rest his chin on my head. “There’s this town back home that my family used to spend summers in before I was ‘Aurora Kim-Wiseman, when I was just Rory. My mum used to go there as a kid with her family. It’s this little seaside town called Hopeman, barely more than a chip shop and the caravan park we used to stay in. Well, on the cliffs there’s this house with huge windows on the cliffs that’s been for sale on and off for years. I keep saying the next time it all gets too much I’m going to buy it, do it all up and just disappear. I’ll buy a dog, we’ll go on walks down the beach, and no one will know who I am. Or care.”

Jungkook presses a kiss to my head, mumbling into my hair;

“It sounds nice.”

“It is. The sun sets over the sands and sometimes, in the summer, you can see the northern lights. On clear days you can see across the Moray firth to Sutherland… Do you ever miss just getting to exist?”

“Yeah, a little.”

“But you can’t give it up.”

Not yet.”

“I know - me too,” I sigh, curling deeper into his arms.

I stand up first, holding my hand out to help Jungkook up. He doesn’t actually need help,I’ll just use any excuse to touch him. He’s apparently on the same page; taking this opportunity to steal a quick kiss from me. It becomes a pattern. As we fold the blanket each time we come together is punctuated with a kiss, and laughter at our antics. He draws me in for a deeper kiss after I pick up my shoes. One of those ones that make you feel like melting. That makes the whole world shrink down to just your fingers in their hair, their hand digging into your waist, the feeling of their thumbs skimming your rib cage. Just them.

We walk away slowly. I’m pressed into Jungkook’s side, my arms wrapped around his torso. His arm is slung over my shoulder, tucking me even closer so he can intermittently place absent kisses to my hair.

There are two black cars waiting on the street. This is where we say goodbye this time. I want to throw caution out the window, kiss him one last time under the street lamps. But it’s too risky, anyone could see and it would be both our careers on the line. So we stand a respectable distance apart.

“Best first date ever.” It comes out sadder than I thought it would. All longing mixed with already missing the past.

“I’ll take you on a real one next time.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Silence lulls over us for a second.

“I want to kiss you goodnight,” Jungkook says.

“Me too, I breathe. I close my eyes for a second and an idea comes to me. It’s from a tv show, I think, I can’t remember which one.

“Close your eyes,” I say, not opening mine. I wait for him to says he’s doing it before continuing, “Right, so, imagine that my hands are on your cheeks as I rise onto my tiptoes bringing you down so I can meet you halfway and kiss you. It’s soft and slow…”

“I’d rest my hands on your waist, pulling you closer because I can’t get enough. We’d draw back, I’d rest my forehead on yours and say something cliche and romantic like ‘I miss you already.’”

I can’t help the smile that drifts onto my face as I open my eyes.

“I miss you too.”

The smile Jungkook gives me is endlessly bittersweet. We part then, me to one car and him to the other. I curl up in the backseat, pulling Jungkook’s hoodie up to cover my head. Nestling into the smell of him mixed with ocean air I can already feel that ache in my chest. I catch Mark looking at me in the mirror.

“Parting is such sweet sorrow, eh?” He winks. In reply I sink lower in the seat, mumbling,

“Refuse to believe you’ve read Romeo and Juliet.”

“Nope, Love the Baz Lurhmann film though,” he replies before pulling away from the kerb.

#bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x oc #jeon jungkook fic #fic:esos

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knjsagustd · 3 years

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either side of sunrise | jjk 03

It makes me ache. The realisation that I’m learning all these little things - all the stuff that makes you fall in love with someone - through a screen, constantly separated by hundreds of thousands of miles is hitting different today.

prev | next | series masterlist | playlist

→ idol!Jungkook x actress!OC (Aurora Kim-Wiseman)

→ w/c: 4.8k

→ warnings: discussions of mental health, therapy and time spent in psych wards. This chapter contains descriptions of suicide and attempted suicide. It’s in the first italicised section.

→a/n: i just want to say thank you to anyone and everyone that has taken the time to read this fic 💛💛💛

Interlude: Ophelia

“Today’s the day?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Do you mind if I ask why?”

“She’s like a wall in my life and I’m ready to move past her. I can’t keep carrying this.”

“Okay, where would you like to start?”

“The beginning I guess…”

“I met Ophelia Huston when I was twelve and were both auditioning for ‘Introducing Me’, her for the main role and me for the best friend - for obvious Hollywood reasons. Eleven then, at thirteen she was everything. She had this magnetism, you look at her and all you wanted was to be her friend. She was like the fucking sun - sorry. And she chose me. We both got cast, and the rest is immortalised on screen. Time goes on and the show gets bigger than any of us could have imagined. The whole cast was like a family to me considering how I was spending so much time in LA and my actual family was back home. But Ophelia was my person.

“Around season three things started changing, Ophelia was having problems. I don’t know what, she wouldn’t tell me. But I saw her agent and our directors and producers giving her stuff, pills. I told my agent at the time but he just told me it wasn’t my concern. She changed, there was always this wild look in her eyes that felt dangerous. Like she was hanging on by a thread. But I couldn’t do anything. I was exhausted, missing my parents, missing her, crying myself to sleep every night. I was falling apart too but my agent just said it was hormones, gave me sleeping pills to help at night, and booked me more gigs to keep me distracted. People that knew me then said they’d never seen a fourteen year old look so old. Completely dead behind the eyes until a camera was rolling - then I was whatever someone asked me to be. Fourteen years old and basically fully grown. I was too young to question or make decisions but old enough to watch my best friend, my sister destroy herself. With the help of people that were meant to be looking out for us.

“The night season four wrapped, Ophelia killed herself. I was the one that found her. We used to give each other our hotel room keys in case we needed something. She hadn’t come down to breakfast, so I went to check on her because she’d started skipping meals and I was the only one that could get her to eat. I walked into her room and she could have just been asleep. But there were those stupid little orange pill bottles that Americans have beside and an empty bottle of tequila beside her. I looked the pills up. She was on high prescriptions of citalopram and zopiclone - whatever the American equivalents are. She overdosed on purpose then drank most of the bottle. I called her agent instead of an ambulance. It was too late for one anyway. I didn’t cry until her funeral.

“If you don’t mind telling me, what happens next?” How did we end up here?”

“I don’t mind. I think I’ve been numb since then. When I was in the psych ward they did an evaluation and they asked me to rate my usual mental state from zero to ten, with zero being the absolute worst I’ve ever felt and ten being the best. I said I don’t think I know what it feels like to be above a three, at a push. I couldn’t remember the last time I wasn’t tired, or my smile wasn’t fake. Between Ophelia’s death and my admittance there were two years where I just pushed myself harder. I was following her track, using any method to keep myself going in order to work. Pushing myself to the limit to get the job done. Taking any gig my agent threw my way. There’s a lot of shit I’m not proud of in my catalogue. There’s things I can’t watch because I can’t find myself in the girl on screen. In the bad way, not the I’m doing a great job way. I’ve met people who worked with me back then who say I’m unrecognisable. On the two year anniversary of Ophelia’s death I was alone after wrapping a project I hated every minute of. I… I’d never felt more alone than I did sitting in that huge, empty, hotel room with a new script in front of me. All I wanted was to sleep. So I, uh, I took every pill in the, the current batch of my sleeping pill prescription. Unlike Ophelia I was - um I was found in time. My agent, they found me and called an ambulance.”

“Are you okay? You don’t have to keep going.”

“No.. I - I need to say this out loud. Someone needs to hear my version, not the one that the press circled. They, um, they pumped my stomach. There’s a specific treatment for sleeping pill overdoses. Then I was referred to the psych ward. That’s… that’s where I spent my eighteenth birthday. I stayed there a month. I went back twice in the year between then and Gravity. You know everything after that, you were there. I fired my old agent who’d been with me since I was ten, I got a restraining order against him too because he’s a manipulative arsehole. I found Maia, who treats me like a person and friend, not a profit. She lets me say no to things. The first job I took after it was Gravity and I am so thankful for it.”

“And how are you feeling now?”

“I’m not as sad as I used to be. Mostly I’m just tired. Sometimes I’m angry. At the people who didn’t help me or Ophelia. At the industry that puts people like us in these positions. At Ophelia for not being strong enough, which I know is shitty and wrong.”

“How do you feel for saying all of this?”

“I feel a wee bit lighter. I’ve said it, now I’m not the only carrying it. It can’t haunt me.”

November 2020

I’m reading over audition packets in my childhood bedroom - It’s loose term considering I spent most of my childhood bouncing around hotel rooms - when the call comes. It’s just my phone buzzing beside me where it’s face down on my floor. I lean back against the bottom of my bed as I answer it, not bothering to look at the contact ID. THe only people that call me are Maia and Jungkook. The latter of which is weird to say. After my birthday the something snapped and we’ve started calling whenever we can, time zones permitting. We’ve also moved off instagram as our primary mode of contact. A simple exchange of phone numbers and emails and we’re using the internat to call and text - no international charges needed. Because he’s a millionaire who forgets that fact and my parents have made me terrified of spending money most of the time. Not sure why I didn’t think of it before. However, it’s like one am in Korea right now so I’m assuming it’s Maia calling about an audition or offer.

“Hello,” I say in English, flipping the page of the audition material I’m looking at right now. I’m fairly sure it’s a Marvel film that’s not saying so to limit spoilers. Which has me rolling my eyes because Maia knows I’m not keen on joining the MCU. It’s the only boundary she pushes me on. I’m fully aware that Marvel is a steady, well paying job, but once you join that’s all you are, they own your soul. You never escape it. Especially at the stage I’m at in my career. (There’s also the fact that I refuse to contribute to the idea that East Asians are interchangable and I don’t know if Marvel is as committed to that as I am. I’m Korean, I’m not interchangeable with Chinese and Japansese people. Also I’m only half Korean, nowhere near white passing but still, sometimes it feels wrong to take roles that were written as full Korean.)

“Hey Rory.”

I almost drop my phone. I did not expect a groggy, sleep heavy Jungkook’s voice to filter through my speakers. Annoying little butterflies come to life in my stomach at it. It only took like four months but he’s using my nickname. It certainly doesn’t make my heart jump to my throat.

“Hey.” God my voice sounds so disgustingly soft. Pulling my brain of the script induced haze, I switch to Korean. Something that is becoming easier with each phone call. Especially now, since I’m home and dad likes to chat with us in Korean when mum isn’t around. “Why are you calling, isn’t it really late there?”

“I couldn’t get back to sleep.”

“So you called me,” I ask slowly. He’s making my heart do sick little slips in it’s new home beside my voice box. This is going to kill me.

“Yeah.”

Dead. The word sits heavy between us for a moment. It’s a confession some sort. One I know we shouldn’t push. There’s too much at stake for the feelings behind it. Over the phone I hear shuffling, and a deep breath.

“Could you maybe turn you camera on? I… I just want to see your face.”

How can you say no to that? If any of my friends knew about the way my heart just melted that would be teasing me so hard. I wouldn’t put it past Olivia’s creepy level of instinct for her to just randomly text me ‘simp’. She’s done it before. And been correct. I don’t even care that I look like my life is falling apart - hair in a half falling out pile on my head, my huge glasses perched on my nose, a ratty oversized sweatshirt turning me into a shapeless blob. Taking a grounding breath (my therapist would be proud), I push the aforementioned glasses back up the bridge of my nose and press the facetime button.

My breath catches in my throat. He shouldn’t be allowed to look that good at one am. The fluorescent lights the kitchen he’s clearly sitting in are not so flattering on anyone else. Honestly it’s unfair. His hair is long, with a fresh undercut, and messy from sleep. A large hoodie is hanging off his frame, dwarfing him, making him look deceptively soft and small. There’s a soft, tired smile on his face.

“You’re wearing glasses,” he says with a small, childlike laugh. I blush.

“Normally I wear contacts. I’m blind without them,” I shrug. He cocks his head, undoubtedly taking in this vision of me being presented to him. It’s incongruent with the limited amount of shots the paparazzi manage to get and the promotional stills from Gravity that were released last week. This, honest, version of me isn’t the same as the one the world gets.

“I like them, they suit you.”

“Thank you… Do you, um, do you want to talk about why you can’t sleep?”

“You’re not busy?”

“I’m sat on my bedroom floor on my fifth audition pack of the day, I’ve got time,” I smile at him sardonically. He ducks his head, it’s a familiar movement from the interviews I’ve watched - and that one time we met in person. It makes me ache. The realisation that I’m learning all these little things - all the stuff that makes you fall in love with someone - through a screen, constantly separated by hundreds of thousands of miles is hitting different today. He adjusts on the bar stool he’s perched on, so as to sit more comfortably as he speaks.

Their new album is dropping tomorrow - a fact I knew not just from him but from the internet and Olivia and Daniel who won’t shut up about it. (They keep counting down to it in the group chat. Exhibit A as to why they are not aware of my friendship with Jungkook. It would be insufferable.) I understand pre-album jitter, they’re of the same breed as pre-premier jitters. You put your heart and soul into something, of course you’re worried about how people are going to react to it. This time is worse apparently. The boys have put it together differently than their past albums, and it’s more personal in some ways. And Jungkook is scared it isn’t good enough. Four months of this have taught me that Jungkook is always scared of not being good enough. I know from experience it’s very hard to convince someone they are. The best I can do is listen. Remind him that ARMY will love and support anything they put out. Because it’s from them and their hearts.

“Getting to see you is so much better,” he says sleepilly after a moment.

“Yeah, it is.”

And we just sit there for a moment, staring at each other on our phones. If this was a movie, and we weren’t on opposite sides of the world, this would be the moment we’d kiss. Instead we just sit there, smiling softly like idiots.

Both of us jump as a voice starts speaking from off screen.

“Jungkook-ah? Why are you up?”

Namjoon comes into frame, heading for the fridge without sparing us a glance, as Jungkook replies;

“Couldn’t sleep, hyung.”

He sounds exhausted. I feel extremely awkward, sitting here watching Namjoon fix a bowl of cereal without him knowing that’s what I’m doing. I can’t figure out if I should announce myself.

“Were you talking to someone,” Namjoon asks, putting the milk back in the fridge.

“Uh, Aurora-ssi,” Jungkook replies, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Slowly Majoon turns to look at us, a spoonful of cornflakes halfway to his mouth. It’s almost comical. He bows and blushes.

“I’m sorry Aurora-ssi, I didn’t realise.”

I return the bow, which is kind of weird considering I’m cross legged and doing it through a phone screen, blushing furiously. I don’t miss the tired shit eating frin on Jungkook’s face. There are some very obvious cogs turning in his brain. Ones I don’t need to see come to fruition. Especially in front of Namjoon.

“It’s okay. Um, I hope you’re okay too?”

I don’t really know what to say. With Namjoon here, probably fully prepared to talk Jungkook through everything better than I ever could, I feel kind of extraneous. But it feels rude to not check in with him too. Even if this is literally the first time we’ve properly spoken. In truth, the only member I’ve spoken to other than Jungkook is Jimin (my little side comment to Jin on Graham Norton doesn’t count). He was always begging to be included in our text conversation and has taken to interrupting our calls. Always stealing the phone and insisting on having a proper chat with me before hanging up and dragging Jungkook wherever they need to be. Last time he remembered my reluctance to say if I had a bias on Graham Norton and tried to guess. Jungkook gave him my number - in an effort to get him to stop interrupting us. So now it’s not just the Gravity chat spamming my phone. Although he’s progressed from trying (and failing) to figure out my bias to just sending me memes. Granted his attempts consist of just asking if it’s him or Jungkook over and over again - occasionally he throughs in Jin and Tae. Apparently he doesn’t think I’m a rapline girl.

“I am fine, thank you. I hope Jungkook didn’t interrupt anything.”

I barely suppress my laugh when Jungkook jokingly rolls his eyes.

“No I’m just trying to pick auditions.” Namjoon nods sagely along with my words. I’m about to continue when a text from Maia drops down on my screen. My eyes widen. “But, uh, I should go. And you two should go to bed.”

“Are you okay,” Jungkook is asking instantly.

“Yeah, fine. My agent wants to call me. But, this was really great. It was lovely to see you again Namjoon-nim. Good luck, I’m sure the album is amazing.”

Both of them wave goodbye on screen as I give them a thumbs up and end the call.

Interlude: Dream

“It’s called “Finding the Way Back” and Sandra Oh has specifically requested that I audition for the part. Like what the fuck?”

“Language, Rory.”

“I’m an adult.”

“Fair. is this an ‘I can’t believe this amazing thing is happening’ kind of what the fuck, or an ‘I don’t deserve this amazing thing’ what the fuck?”

“I don’t know. Maybe both?”

“Why?”

“This is all I’ve ever wanted. I read the audition packet and I felt so seen, I knew it was going to make so many other people feel seen too. It’s the sort of shit that gets Oscars, you know? I’ve never in a million years believed that i was going to do Oscar stuff. And it’s playing across from Sandra fucking Oh - who is like my icon. She’s so amazing, like as a person and an actress. And she wants me - Aurora Kim-Wiseman, ex-pulic train wreck - to play her daughter in this film that is just begging to be genre-defining. This sort of thing doesn’t happen to me. Not in real life.”

“Nice things are allowed to happen to you Rory, not everything has another shoe waiting to drop.”

December 2020

“Welcome back, we are here with Olivia Dickens, Aurora Kim-Wiseman, Jake Llewlyn and Daniel Peterson,” James Corden says over the loud cheers that are filling the studio. It’s hard not to smile as Olivia bounces on her toes next to me, cutting off the circulation to my hand with how hard she’s holding it. Jake is being just as characteristically cool as usual, one arm slung over my shoulder, the other waving. And Daniel is just laughing at Olivia’s antics, and whatever it was Jake whispered as we were getting into this line. I give a little wave with my free hand as James continues speaking.

“Now, these four may appear very cool on the surface -” a questionable statement given the way Olivia is vibrating “- but we are going to test their nerves of steel in a game we like to call Flinch!”

The way James says the last word actually makes Olivia flinch a little bit. It only serves to make Daniel laugh harder. Those two are never a good combination. At least the producers learned from our last press cycle and decided against letting them to pairs interviews together, that was disastrous. They’re both chaotic entities who feed off each other. Now we always do it girls and boys. Olivia and I together because I’m apparently a calming presence. Daniel, Jake and Matt together because they keep other in check. Playing Flinch isn’t exactly what I expect when we started the press cycle for Gravity season two but it’s probably going to be one of my favourite parts. Especially given how easily Olivia scares.

James is explaining the rules, like Olivia and Daniel haven’t made us all watch the video of BTS playing a million times. In fact I’m ninety percent sure they were watching it on youtube while we were in make up. Make that a hundred percent given the good natured eye rolls that Jake was sending me in the mirror. He’s sending me a similar look right now, I roll my lips between my teeth to stop myself from laughing. Looking around I catch Maia standing off stage. Her arms are crossed, she’s looking at me in that way she does when I’ve given her something she needs to spin. If I’m guessing, the camera’s probably caught that exchange and she’s placing money on Jake and I’s ship hashtag being revived after this airs. Anxiety rises in my stomach. I hate the way every friendly interaction is twisted by people. How it always leads to invasive question and false rumours.

“Who out of you scares the easiest,” James asks, as though Olivia isn’t literally shaking next to me. Like we’d practiced it Jake, Daniel and I turn to Olivia, while she shrinks into my captive arm.

“Well, then I think it’s only fitting that you and Aurora got first.”

With that the boys are whooping as I walk Olivia behind the screen. She pulls my hand to her, adjusting her grip so she’s clinging to it with both hands like a lifeline. Everyone is speaking at once, James trying to distract us to get a good jump when he launches the fruit, Jake and Daniel messing about with eachother, Olivia replying to them and the audience cheering. It all feels very overwhelming all of a sudden. Especially with the concern of fruit being thrown at high speeds towards my face. I don’t realise I’m just standing there staring ahead, dead-eyed, until James is calling to me.

“Aurora, are you okay there?” There’s a laugh in his voice that makes me feel a little bit self conscious.

“I’m already dissociating,” I say back, lifting my free hand into a peace sign on autopilot.

This gets me one of those full audience laughs. Especially as my statement is punctuated by an orange and apple being launched towards us. Olivia shrieks, jumping out of her skin. My hand gets jerked along with her. But that’s the only movement they get out of me. The audience goes wild, along with James and the boys. Daniel is just pointing at me as Olivia and I walk back. He brings me into one of the bro, tug you in and pat your back, hugs, wrapping an arm over my shoulders as we watch the replay. I don’t even blink. Laughing I burrow into Daniel’s side to hide my blush.

Nearly four hours later we’re sitting in Olivia’s hotel room watching the show air. We’re all piled on her bed with Shake Shack burgers that we got security to sneak in for us. The flinch segment just ended. We’re all laughing at how Daniel grabbed Jake, the two of them jumped for each other like Shaggy and Scooby Doo. I definitely won. That’s not up for debate. My phone buzzes. Out of habit I grab it, holding it close to my face.

JJK: Tae is annoyed that you did better than him at flinch.

I hold in my laughter so as not to get the other’s attention. They’ve been questioning me about my ‘mysterious gentleman’ since we started filming the season and it’s been picked back up for the press tour. Apparently i’m on my phone a suspicious amount. And smiling more - Jake likes to say it’s creepy.

Me: you’re watching??

JJK: In between rehearsals. We like watching Mr Corden and you’re in it so we had to.

Me: 🥺👉👈 you’re watching it for me?

JJK: ...Well yeah.

“Rory!”

My phone is snatched, unceremoniously, out of my hand by Olivia. Thankfully she switch sit off, placing it on the bedside table next to her, rather than looking at it. Today is not the day I want to explain the Jungkook situation. And the fact I’ve kept it from them.

“Pay attention to us. Your mystery man can wait.”

I laugh, collapsing dramatically into Jake. He rolls his eyes, adjusting me so I’m all but laying in his lap.

Interlude: Soul

“Why are you still acting?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve said it yourself, this industry took your childhood, killed your best friend and almost picked you. Why keep going? You have a stellar school record, your examination grades are excellent, you would have your pick of universities if you wanted. Or you could just allow yourself to fade into anonymity. Why stay?”

“...Will you judge me if I say that I don’t know who I am without it all? This has been my entire life for so long I don’t know if I can exist without the lights and cameras.”

“Once again, I’m never judging you, and that’s a valid if slightly concerning answer. However I can’t help but feel it isn’t the whole truth. You’ve said before that without Gravity you be back in the psych ward by now. Is it truly just a case of identity?”

“No… Acting makes me feel alive in a way that nothing else does. Not even when I was seventeen and high on LSD on Sunset Boulevard. I love getting to tell stories, to represent people and just be someone else for a while. I’m not over-exaggerating when I say I’d be dead by now if I hadn’t returned to it. Before I was in a horrible situation, but it wasn’t representative of the whole industry. There are some really good pockets that remind you this isn’t just some white guy’s billion dollar investment. It’s an art form. I’m not saying I’m Van Gogh with his brush, or Shakespeare with his pen when I’m in front of the camera - I’m not making masterpieces for the most part - but I’m creating something. And it makes people feel seen. Or allows them to experience emotions that would be too scary in real life. Yes, it almost killed me, but now it’s keeping me alive.”

January 2021

“Happy New Year!” I say when Jungkook’s face appears on my screen. He’d texted the same at ten am - when Korea entered the New Year - but I was in a shoot. Filming goes ahead, even on the last day of the year. No-one listened to my argument that that I’m Scottish and technically Hogmanay is a holiday and bigger deal than New Year’s day. Granted I only said it to Maia who just blinked at me before sending me off to wardrobe. But no, we only have so much time with this sort of weather - a perfect, atmospheric, grey cold punctuated with snow - in New England so we have to get the shots now. Can’t even bank on reshoots because it’s so specific.

A chorus of ‘Happy New Year’s greets me as Jungkook waves me around the sitting room he’s in, showing me the rest of BTS draped across the various pieces of furniture and each other. I wave at them. Since that first facetime call they’ve become so regular that I’ve had some sort of interaction with each member at some point. They walk in and out of them, sometimes stopping for a chat. Usually they just drop off Jungkook’s food, remind of a call time or tell him to go to bed. At first everytime one of them stepped into frame my stomach would flip. There’s nothing quite like global superstars to kick start your anxiety. But I’ve settled into it now.

“How was today?” Jimin asks over Jungkook’s shoulder.

I try to stop myself blushing. Jungkook does the same, he’s fully aware of what I was shooting today since I’ve been anxious about it all week. Not everyday you film your first ever (kind of) sex scene in front of a woman that has been your icon for as long as you can remember, while she gives you tips from the other side of the camera. It wasn’t a full on sex scene, more like heavy petting and grinding to simulate the act while we both remained fully clothed. The camera only filmed us from the waist up, with a lot of close ups. But it’s still nerve wracking. It’s the opposite of something I want to share with BTS. Especially Jungkook - whose ears are turning red at the thought of it and currently looks like he wants the ground to swallow him.

“Yeah it, uh, it went fine.” My voice comes out a little strangled. “What are you guys up to?”

Once again Jungkook pans the camera, this showing a paused TV screen depicting a scene from one of the Marvel films. I think it’s an early one from the looks of it, maybe the first Thor or something. All I can see is an explosion.

“We’ve got a few days off for the New Year, so we’re doing a rewatch,” Jungkook explains.

“Oh,” I say, feeling suddenly awkward for interrupting. “I’ll stop distracting you.”

Jungkook cocks his head at me, looking like he wants to say something but for some reason is holding it back.

“There’s a party downstairs. I promised Maia I’d come back after making a call.”

With that we all say our goodbyes. That funny look never leaves Jungkook’s face.

“I’ll call you later?” He says, once the others have settled down. I just nod, biting my lip.

Once we hang up I flop back on my bed. Is it stupid that all I can think about is how much I wish he was here? How much I want to be able to ring in the New Year with one of those fabled kisses. Standing next to a person I want to spend the coming year with. God I’m a fucking idiot. And pathetic. My Therapist was right.

#bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook #jungkook x oc #fic:esos

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knjsagustd · 3 years

Text

either side of sunrise

Pairing: idol!Jungkook x actress!oc (Aurora Kim-Wiseman)

Genre: celebrity!au

Warnings: discussions of mental illness, therapy and time spent in psychiatric wards

Premise: Aurora Kim-Wiseman (that one ex-child actress who had a semi-public breakdown a couple years back) has recently made her triumphant return to the screen, big and little. What doesn’t fit into the plan is “international playboy” (sarcastic considering he could barely get the request out) Jeon Jungkook asking for her number after they meet on a talk show. Despite her therapist’s worries she just can’t ignore whatever is going on between them.

playlist

→ one

→ two

→ three

→ four

→ five *new*

#fic:esos

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knjsagustd · 3 years

Text

either side of sunrise | jjk 01

“Are you okay?” Their owner says in slightly accented English. I look up, anxiety once again settling heavily in my stomach. My breath catches in my throat as I meet soft brown eyes filled with concern. Also there’s the fact that the person I just walked into is Jeon Jungkook. Logically I knew I was going to meet BTS tonight, what with them being the musical guest, but this really isn’t how I thought it was going to go. It really doesn’t help the whole anxiety-embarrassment cocktail I’ve got going on.

Before I can reply a harried looking tech is calling down the hall,

“Miss Kim-Wiseman, we need you backstage!

next | series masterlist | playlist

→ idol!Jungkook x actress!OC (Aurora Kim-Wiseman)

→ w/c: 3.6k

→ warnings: discussions of mental health, therapy and time spent in psych wards.

→a/n: i just though i’d say that this takes place in world without the pandemic but somehow all media released since it started has been the same - suspension of disbelief.

My dressing room was too hot so now I’m just pacing up and down the corridor. Trying to refrain from picking at my nails - the lady who did them earlier would kill me. I hate talk shows. Especially when I’m alone. In my head I’m aware that the Graham Norton Show is probably the best one to fly solo on for the first time after everything. I feel more confident in front of a British audience. American hosts have a habit of asking invasive questions and making fun of my accent. Last year Ellen - who I’ve never particularly liked anyway - made a Braveheart reference and all that stopped me retaliating was my co-stars hand on my shoulder. Plus Maia, my agent, would have killed me. They also saved me from the awkward, invasive questions that American hosts so love. However, the fact that Graham Norton isn’t going to make ignorant or probing comments really doesn’t help the anxiety coiling in my stomach.

But that’s not what this is about. I take a deep breath, spinning on my heel to face the other direction. The Graham Norton Show has been a goal since my first audition. He’ll be nice. It’ll be fine. We’ll talk about some silly story from my past, I’ll say something about the new film and he’ll play a clip. Then all I have to do is sit there and look pretty. Maybe chime in with a funny comment occasionally. Easy.

Or so I tell myself. But the platitudes and counting of my fingers isn’t helping. On the surface it feels very ironic. An actress who breakdowns down at the idea of public speaking feels contradictory. But, as I remind anyone who questions it, I act so I don’t have to be myself. Something that seems even more important of late. Even if my therapist thinks it’s unhealthy. When calls me out I like to point out that if I wasn’t acting I might still be in the pysch ward. It’s a weird contradiction - this life put me there but I need it to survive. I need the escape.

My spiralling thoughts are stopped as I collide with a hard body. I reel back, cheeks burning.

“Oh my god, I’m so so sorry,” I splutter. Two large hands come to rest on my arms.

Before I can reply a harried looking tech is calling down the hall,

“Miss Kim-Wiseman, we need you backstage!”

Anxiety spikes through me. It must show on my face because Jungkook gives me a sympathetic smile as he steps to the side.

“Good luck,” he says, shooting me a thumbs up as I walk away. I swallow down the butterflies that start fluttering. This really isn’t the time or place, and he really isn’t the guy. For a plethora of reasons.

As I make my way back stage I take deep supposedly calming breaths. My therapist would be proud. Or at least a little bit pleased with my attempts towards healthy coping mechanisms. I can hear the audiences laughing and cheering in reply to Graham’s summary of the week. The other guests are lining up behind me, because of course I’m being introduced first. I think it’s a least to most famous situation, announcing me after any of them would just be disappointing. But I’m trying very hard not to think about how three are legends standing behind me. Trying not to feel like a lost child.

But then the stag manager is motioning me up the stage entrance and I can hear my introduction,

“Now,” Graham’s voice comes from the stage, in that definite tone British people use when they’re getting on track. “This actress made her triumphant return to our screens last year with the Emmy nominated Netflix drama ‘Gravity - and other things that bind us’ - quite the mouthful I know. But she’s here tonight to talk to us about her role as a modern revolutionary in Étre Libre. Please welcome Aurora Kim-Wiseman.”

I hope my walk onto the stage looks more confident than I feel. There’s cheering. Graham brings me into a quick hug of greeting complete with air kisses. I take my place on the far end of the sofa but remain standing as he introduces the other guests. Daniel Radcliffe smiles encouragingly as he shakes my hand, standing next to me. I almost turn into a stuttering mess as I meet Sandra Oh, who has always been one of my idols. But I get through the hug she gives me without incident. The final guest is Colin Firth, his handshake is firm, and smile polite. My only saving grace is that I don’t seem to be shaking. All in all I feel extremely out of place. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in this sort of company. I don’t know if I fit into it anymore.

Graham eases us into it, I take the opportunity to take a sip from the glass of water set out for me. Once again, I feel juvenile. My glass of water next to their glasses of whiskey and wine makes me wince. Even if I know I can’t drink alcohol it doesn’t stop me feeling like a child. I nod along with the story Colin Firth is telling. Laughing along with the others. Pretending my brain isn’t in overdrive.

“And, Aurora, you’re quite the BTS fan aren’t you?”

All eyes turn to me, and I hope I don’t look too much like a deer in the headlights.

“Uh, yeah. I actually saw them live last year when I was visiting family in Korea.”

“And do you have a - what do the young people call it - a bias?”

What I hope is, a dignified laugh falls from me. Graham is really throwing me in the deep end. All the anxiety from the hallway comes rushing back in for a moment. I take a shaky breath before answering. Hoping it just looks like I’m still laughing a little bit.

“Oh, considering that they’re backstage and I’ve reached my embarrassment quota for today, I think I’ll keep that to myself,” I say, hoping it seems like I’m in on the joke.

Am I blushing? It feels like my cheeks are burning. Graham and the others guests are laughing. Daniel Radcliffe shoots me a grin before leaning forward conspiratorially.

“Well, I’m sure my partner won’t hold it against me when I say mine is Jin, who doesn’t love Mr World Wide Handsome?”

That has everyone laughing and cheering again. Graham is playfully trying to get everyone to calm down. I manage to mouth thank you to Daniel. He shrugs a little before leaning back, draping his arm over the back of the sofa. He’s looking out for me, I forgot that he knows what it’s like. The whole child star who fell apart thing. We just didn’t do it as publicly as some people.

With that Graham turns back to Colin Firth and I can breathe.

I’m called on again during Colin Firth’s segment. He’s promoting Mamma Mia 3 and Graham is talking about our varying musical ability. Sandra Oh told everyone about her refusing to sing in the musical episode of Grey’s Anatomy. According to her, that was ‘probably for the best’. Daniel, of course, was on Broadway. Which leaves me.

“Aurora, you’re musical too aren’t you?”

“A little bit,” I reply noncommittally. Graham smiles and the familiar anxiety is twisting in my gut.

“Come now, don’t be modest. A little birdie told me you are quite the virtuoso, playing guitar, ukulele and piano alongside singing. Don’t lie, there’s video evidence.”

For a moment I hate my co-stars on Gravity. But I just smile and nod.

“I guess, but only in my bedroom or when my friends get me drunk. You should be glad I didn’t do the Disney singing career thing,” I laugh. The audience does too, which is comforting. With that the focus returns to Colin Firth.

I’m largely left alone while Graham makes his way through the other guests. Sandra Oh talks about the new season of Killing Eve. All I can do is hope that the full extent of my admiration doesn’t show through on my face. I’ve accepted that trying to hide it completely is futile. Maybe people will think it’s endearing. Daniel Radcliffe is here to promote the Old Vic’s production of ‘Waiting for Godot’. Beckett has never been my favourite playwright but the production Daniel describes seems at least interesting. Which is more than I can say for how I feel about most Beckett plays. The audience laughs at some rehearsal story and Graham swivels his chair to better look at me.

“Now, Aurora Kim-Wiseman,” he says my name emphatically, drawing out each syllable as though they’re important, “you are here to talk to us about a phenomenal film, ‘Être Libre’. It showed at Cannes, where your performance was especially lauded, and premieres in London next week with worldwide theatrical release following.”

I try not to blush or smile too hard at the memory of the Cannes reviews. I hadn’t been as confident as Rebecca, the director. Not that I thought we’d be panned, I just didn’t think we’d be the talk of the festival, in a positive way. Rebecca put her heart and soul into the film, her first major production, and she was so sure it was going to succeed. I also put my everything into it, but I was very worried about the film community’s reaction to a film directed by a relatively unknown woman of colour and featuring a twenty year old half-Korean Scottish ex-child actor (fresh off a mental breakdown) as the lead. It didn’t really matter that I was nominated for an Emmy for Gravity. I didn’t think people would take it seriously. So the positive reviews at Cannes - some already suggesting oscars - really helped.

“You play the protagonist Lily Park, a university student who gets caught up in a revolutionary group, tell us more.”

I relax. This is something I can do. Talking about films is about the only thing I feel confident doing without a character and script. It helps that I love Être Libre so much. My therapist used to get exasperated when I would spend our time talking about it to avoid discussing the issues that I meant to talk about. So I give Graham the premise of present day dystopian society (a global pandemic hit the world hard and gave rise to totalitarian governments), a revolutionary group of students and my character who gets caught up in it because of her idiot brother.

“And what was it like to play this character, she was quite different from previous roles, wasn’t she?”

“Yeah she was,” I pause for a second, gathering my thoughts. “It was quite hard. Lily is a lot more like me than, say, Ava from Gravity. She’s unsure, scared of a lot of things - that’s what we share - but I also really admire her. She stands up for what she believes in, no matter how scary it is, and never looks away when people need her. I found playing her to be quite empowering in many ways but it’s also difficult for me to play characters that I’m similar to. However, it was nice to use my normal accent, I saved money on the dialect coach.”

That earns me a laugh from the audience. Graham smiles encouragingly, it makes me feel like I’m doing well. If I were getting graded on this interview I feel like I’m safely in the B category, B plus if I’m being generous. Which a totally normal thing to think about and definitely not something I should talk to my therapist about.

“You filmed on location in Glasgow, largely, didn’t you? What was that like?”

“Oh it was great . A few of my old friends are at uni there, and those that aren’t are like an hour train away, so I was able to spend a lot of time with them and my family which was a nice change.”

“Not that you had much time -” I nod, along to Graham’s words “- I’ve heard you barely had enough time to sleep.”

And he taps his keyboard and there’s a picture of me curled up on a horrible sofa. I groan internally. He taps the keyboard again and I’m asleep with my head on a shoulder, its owner is cropped out. I can work out from the costumes, I remember the day of filming, that it belongs to Steven, who played my brother. I laugh as another comes up where I’m wrapped in an excessively fluffy blanket in what seems to be a room full of costumes. Graham turns back to us.

“Apparently it became a game to see who could get the best pictures of you sleeping without them knowing.”

I laugh,

“So I found out at the wrap party when they gave Ren an award.”

Once the audience finishes laughing Graham picks his cards back up. He taps them emphatically against his knee before continuing.

“Right, well, we do have evidence that you do more than sleep. This clip comes near the climax of the film as you argue with your brother about your involvement with the revolutionaries, and here it is.”

The lights dim, Graham turns on his chair, and the clip starts playing. It’s only a thirty second clip, but I still hold my breath. It’s an intense scene. Steven and I hugged a lot in between takes, making sure the other was okay. The me on the screen is filled with righteous fury. I remember how exhausted I felt after filming - I probably found the first comfortable spot I could and fell asleep - but powerful. That’s one thing I can say about Être Libre, it made me feel powerful.

The clip ends and the crowd applauds, I blush. Graham reiterates when the film releases in cinemas before moving on. There’s some miscellaneous discussion. Daniel tells a funny story. I try to listen but the adrenaline of making it through my part of the interview without messing up or being sick is pounding through my ears. I only manage to draw my focus completely back in as Graham’s voice lifts above the audience’s laughter.

“Right, ladies and gentlemen, we’ve kept you waiting long enough. Back on this stage it’s the biggest boy band in the world, here to perform their latest smash hit ‘Dynamite’, please welcome BTS!”

The cheers from the crowd are deafening as the lights go down on our parts of the stage and up on the performance section. With zero abandon I stand to watch. Sandra Oh moves to stand next to me.

“You did really well,” she says, patting my arm. “Do you mind if I get my agent in touch with yours, there’s a project I’m working on that I think you would be perfect for. ”

I swallow the lump form in my throat and once again hope my nerves don’t show through.

“Th- thank you. N- no, I don’t mind.”

She smiles at me as Jungkook starts singing.

“You’re doing amazing, be more confident.” With that she squeezes my arm comfortingly before turning her full attention to the performance.

Seeing them in Seoul with my cousin was amazing. The energy that buzzed through the stadium was infectious. I got to be just a random girl in the crowd. Largely because my cousin and I were planted right in the middle of the standing section, anonymous in the crush. Partially because I was never that popular in South Korea - the shows I worked in before everything never really took off there. (And, if my Halmi’s words are anything to go by, not Korean enough for people there to care.) But this is different. More intimate. And the fact that when he isn’t singing, or the focus of the cameras, Jungkook’s gaze keeps meeting mine isn’t helping the butterflies in my stomach. I’m dancing along, it’s kind of impossible not to, trying to keep it to a small bounce or shimmy. Colin Firth is laughing. Then he’s offering to twirl me. I laugh and accept. It’s like dancing with my dad. Which is really weird to say about Colin Firth.

It’s a standing ovation as the song finishes. I thank Colin for the dance through laughs as we go back to our seats. BTS walks over. Jimin is whispering something in a blushing Jungkook’s ear. RM looks like he’s herding cats as he motion for them to hurry up. They make their way down the sofa shaking each of our hands and bowing. I bow back, earning smiles from them. Graham ushers them into their seat. Suga, Jin, J-Hope and V sit on stools behind the sofa, while Jungkook, RM and Jimin slide in next to me. Somehow, and given the others’ smiles and RM’s eye rolling I don’t think it was accidental, Jungkook ends up next to me.

“Hello again,” he says quietly as they settle.

“Hi,” I manage to get out. I hope I’m not blushing. The last thing I need is for pictures of me mooning over BTS to go viral. Jungkook’s smile widens, he does a sweet little head bob before giving Graham his full attention.

“So I have met most of you, but for the uninitiated or those who have been living under a rock, why don’t you introduce yourselves.”

So they do - with Graham fawning over Jimin who he didn’t get to meet last time BTS were on the show - and the interview continues. They talk about their new album, the tour and life in general. Well, RM does most of the talking, as happens in their English language interviews. It’s not as exciting as being given a shirt by Whoopi Goldberg. I struggle to keep a straight face as Jin leans over and says so to Suga, in Korean, just loud enough for me to hear. Jungkook looks at me surprised as I, expertly if I say so myself, turn the laugh into nothing more than a short, hard, breath out of my nose. For a moment he regards me suspiciously before looking away. My speaking Korean isn’t exactly a secret. It’s just not a well known fact unless you look at my wikipedia page. If he wants to assume I don’t understand their side comments, that’s on him.

Graham wraps up the show, thanking us and reeling off next week’s guests. The crowd cheers, we all wave. I smile, leaning backing to Jin and say,

“I’m sure Daniel would give you his shirt if you asked,” in Korean. A laugh rips from Jungkook while Jin looks a little stunned but keeps waving.

The next time someone talks to me is after we’ve all left the stage. I’m shaking a little bit as I see Maia, my manager, beckoning towards me. Someone calls my name from behind me. Maia sighs and points towards my dressing room before heading towards it herself. Nodding I turn.

“Uh… hey?” A flushed Jungkook is smiling down at me.

“Hi,” I reply. The blush on his cheeks makes me feel a bit better about the one I know is creeping onto mine. He rubs the back of his neck nervously. It’s so stupid endearing. The butterflies come back with a vengeance. Sound stalls in his throat as he opens his mouth to speak. I bite my lip, feeling incredibly awkward. Clearly he didn’t have much of a plan after saying hello. Swallowing down the butterflies I grasp for something to say.

“Your performance was amazing,”I venture, in Korean. Jungkook beams, dipping his head a little bit.

“Thank you. You were really great up there too, you had nothing to worry about.”

“Yah, can we pretend I didn’t almost mow you over in my anxiety haze?”

He laughs.

“No, I don’t think so. I’m going to treasure that memory forever.”

I tut good naturedly at him. He smiles, crinkling his eyes, before continuing.

“I’m sorry if this is too much or anything but I was wondering if I could, uh, maybe have a way to contact you? Like not through our managers.”

It comes out in a bit of a rush. I’m blushing furiously while Jungkook looks so shy and earnest. I debate giving my phone number international fees are a bitch. But I’m nodding.

“I have a private instagram, would that work? It’s just phones are tricky and I can’t think of anything…” I trail off as Jungkook holds out his arm and a marker, nodding eagerly.

After writing my private handle on his forearm, trying not to dwell on the fluttering in my chest as I touch him, we part with an awkward head nod. As I walk towards my dressing room I ignore the whoops behind me. At least with my back to them they can’t see my dopey smile.

Maia is waiting for me, a knowing smile on her face. She congratulates me as she helps me unzip the dress. While I pull on my normal clothes, only half listening to Maia’s rundown of the evening, an instagram notification pops up on my phone.

(roryborealis): @_gguk has requested to follow you

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