#yeah... just ignore that i ever gave him this stupid branddeal

[404fmdtaejin]

selfpara ; goodfeel

summary: a test to his patience, and he’s forced to promote something he will never use warnings: it’s about a feminine product brand deal, so if you’re uncomfortable with that... just don’t read wc: 485

his manager gets a hold of him in between moments of filming. today, he’s park saeroyi, the boy with a heart of gold that he plants right in the dead-center of itaewon. in midst of shooting break, he’s still kim taejin. a bit erratic and slightly rational to his words, he’s gaining his own quick breaths to unravel away from the role and step back into kim taejin the human.

he flicks a look at his manager, eyes casted towards an all too familiar expression he reads with his eyes closed. there’s silence, and there’s hesitation — context clues lead him to the general notion of negativity. but he knows better than to shoot the messenger head on. instead, he motions his fingers before weaving it across his chest. a few taps of his feet — and now he just wants to hear everything head on. filter free. void of the baggage that comes from packaging it nicely. 

“what does bc want me to do now?” he knows, it’s only ever bc that becomes the puppeteer to the strings around his back. one ploy after another, one step after another. it’s all calculated movements that fall into one target — the public chants and cheers putting him on a pedestal he knows to be a facade for what he truly is behind closed doors.

“they signed you up for another brand deal.” 

“what? what’s the cause of the uneasy look on your face?” taejin raises a brow, fingers cascading in small taps on an armrest — it’s a brace for the worst.

“joeun neukkim. you know?” there’s a grimace on his manager’s face, eyes shut so fast that he can sense the secondhand discomfort that slides into frame. a forced production, and taejin stands there eyes open and mouth agape.

he hold steady in the pose, recollecting the thoughts that leave his mind slated and blank. “a pad brand? why would they have me advertising that shit?”

it’s the crudeness that falls into his vernacular. the usual poise of a put together man edged with the professionalism he’s renowned for. it shatters at that one sentence, and he’s left hanging inside a limbo — disbelief settling into his bones.

“boyfriend. charms. they want you to be the imaginary boyfriend scenario in the set of commercials, making every person watching feel like they’re on a date with you. your target demographic is females between the ages of 17-40. there’s a reason they want you to sell these products.”

he smacks his lips together — call it an influence. he’s never once had his way to fight the skew of logic and data facts. one fight against this deal becomes an impending lawsuit and a forced ‘hiatus’ that lures him away from the title of shiny new roles. 

it’s a do or be punished.

twelve years, and he knows the former to be the only choice out.