Chapter Text
"How much sorrow can I take?"
Mystery of love, Sujfan Stevens
Seokjin already felt off when he woke up on the day of the award show.
Well, something has been off for a while now. His contentment about his life and himself has been drastically decreasing these past months, leaving him restless and toeing between feeling atrociously numb to feeling an annoying amount of rage.
And the only thing he did about it, was to hide it all inside his mind. Acting was truly the job he was destined to have.
He’s been one of the most sought out actors in South Korea for a few years now, and it’s been wonderful. He took part in multiple movies and dramas where he got to play roles from heartthrob to psychopathic villains. It was everything he’s dreamt of, everything he wished for when he spent late nights studying during his acting degree. But for a while now, he’s been feeling rather… lonely.
See, all his former friends slowly distanced themselves from him, one by one, as he slowly became less available because of all the filming he had to do. He tried to not be bothered by it, telling himself that it was probably for the best and it was rather justified. He thought he’d made friends amongst other actors at some point.
But he was wrong. Either his fellow actors seemed to be overly enthusiastic to film with him at first and disappointed by the end of it, or they decided to ignore him right off the bat. He had to admit that his rise was fast, and there’s a chance people weren’t taking him seriously because of it. Nevertheless, there was one thing in common with every actor he met : no one was ever trying to know who Seokjin really is. It’s true that he’s always thought of himself as kind of a boring person, sometimes annoying. He didn’t really like his personality, but as much as he tried, he never really was able to change it. All in all, he doesn’t really think that it’s not his fault he has no friends now.
Even with countless fans, at the grown age of 35 years old, he doesn’t have friends, doesn’t even have a partner, let alone a kid. He doesn’t even have a pet, the pain of his former ones passing away still weighing heavy on his heart.
So when he woke up alone in his too big apartment the day of the award, feeling like something wasn’t right from the start, he thought it’ll be like usual.
Oh boy was he wrong.
He’d been nominated at the Blue Dragon film awards, which is kind of a big deal, and the ceremony was tonight. His stylists were going to come to his house during the afternoon to get him in the fanciest suit and plaster his face up with makeup. He could already picture himself posing in front of a monochrome background on the red carpet, wearing an uncomfortable suit, while simultaneously being blinded by the camera flashes.
He hugged his pillow closer to him, burying his head in it. He was all but excited for the event.
After getting up, he went through the motions absentmindedly. So much so that time seemed unreal, and he barely noticed the afternoon creeping up on him until the sound of his doorbell rang.
He only had a small lunch that day, both because his hunger had decreased dramatically these past few months, and because he was dissociated heavily today. The doorbell zapped him out of it, and he hurried to the door to greet the team of makeup artists and stylists. The smile he put on while welcoming them inside was intensely forced, enough to hurt his cheeks, and the only thing he could hope for was for them to not notice it. Already, it was a strange request to ask for them to come directly to his apartment before the show, a very unusual demand for such a highly praised actor like him. But Seokjin was having a hard time leaving his house, his social battery draining atrociously fast, enough that even just crossing his management’s building was deemed an insurmountable task for him. So, his apartment was the best middle ground. No one questioned him directly – no one dared to – and he thanked every god there was for this.
Everything went smoothly after that.
The stylists brought the suit and helped him get dressed. When Seokjin buttoned the jacket up, he faintly noticed how the fit was looser than when he first got it fitted about a month ago. Later on, he also almost fell asleep when the makeup artists applied products on his face. When he opened his eyes and looked in the mirror the makeup artist was pointing at him, he saw how the products accentuated his cutely shaped eyes and his pouty lips. It looked nice. Although, when he caught a glimpse of his entire self in the mirror, he halted. Standing here, in his suit that didn’t fit and his face plastered with makeup, he couldn’t help but feel like a puppet with badly sewn clothes and a face painted by amateurs. The more he looked at himself, the more he saw the blush on his cheeks, the highlighter on his undereye, the concealer onto one of his pimples. It was like the only things he could see, and he’s never felt uglier and out of place before.
The journey to the venue by car went in a blur in his mind. He only registered that they’d arrived when the car stopped, and all he could hear were the muffled shouts of the fans outside, as well as the journalists. Seokjin felt his ears start to ring a bit, the task of simply crossing the red carpet outside felt impossible. His hands were starting to shake, which made him clench them into fists so no one would notice. As one of his bodyguards opened the door of the car, he felt more and more as if he was outside of his body. As if everything around him wasn’t real, and he wasn’t actually living this.
Despite stepping out of the car, the shouts around him stayed muffled. His vision became the next target, as it was immediately attacked by the flashes of the cameras. But in the midst of this, what he called his ‘customer service’ smile easily slipped onto his face. If he kept it frozen like this, everything would be okay. However, he was starting to feel a bit dizzy and breathless, like he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs. Keeping his smile on and hiding his hands in his pockets, he walked up the red carpet as quickly as he could without looking conspicuous. It was only once he was inside the building, he took the deepest breath he could, shakily, but it didn't stop how breathless he felt.
His manager, who had appeared by his side soon after he got inside, steered him gently by his arm towards his seat. Not a word was said from him. But he’d never asked Seokjin if he was alright before, ever. Why would that change now?
When Seokjin reached his seat and finally got to sit down, he felt a bit better. His legs had started shaking too on the way, it felt good to not feel like he’d drop on the floor from a faint shove at any moment anymore. In front of him, bottles of water were left on the table, free to grab for the guests. He hastily took one and gulped down from it to try and steer himself. His manager muttered his first words of the night, a mild “good luck” and left him there. He looked to his left and noticed a chair left empty beside him, meaning that someone else will sit here.
He didn’t want to.
He suddenly felt too hot, grabbing the flier of the ceremony to fan himself with, but stopped as soon as he felt a wave of cold sweat wash over him. He tried to take a deep breath again, but it was even more ragged and hard to take then earlier on. To calm himself down, he closed his eyes and focused on ignoring everything around him, thinking about what was left of the video game he hadn’t finished the night before.
After a few minutes, or maybe hours, Seokjin wouldn’t know, he heard the chair beside him scrape the floor and someone taking a seat on it. He turned his head and felt himself go pale.
It was one of his, as the tabloids would say not too wrongly, rival actors, whom Seokjin had already worked with a few times. He’s always thought, even back when he was still in school with an ugly bowl cut, that competitiveness was stupid. Although this time, even if he had tried to befriend him multiple times, he’s always been ignored and turned down harshly in response. He thought that he shouldn’t have been surprised when they had, in fact, both been nominated for Best Actor, along with another guy who also arrived at the table, as well as the group next to them.
But why did they have to place them right next to each other? However, Seokjin, polite as he is, tried to smile curtly at his fellow actor, only to receive a glare in response. He suppressed a sigh as his smile faltered slowly. Fuck. His walls were starting to crumble, he could feel it. He could feel how harder it was getting for him to keep up the clean, polite and kind image he’s carefully crafted over the years.
All too soon, the ceremony began.
He barely registered what was going on, too focused on his heart that was beating too loudly and his hands that were still shaking and starting to feel weak and numb. His leg was absentmindedly bouncing, and he took frequent deep breaths to keep himself in check. He only harshly got out of where he had retracted himself in his own head when he heard a roar of cheers and his fellow actor beside him sighing loudly. He looked up at the screen behind the stage and saw his name, and face, placarded on it.
He had won the award.
Still caught in bewilderment, he slowly got up, his legs still shaking and feeling like mush. Mustering up a tiny smile for the camera filming his every move as he went up the stage, he felt like everything was in slow motion, like his mind couldn’t catch up to it. He bowed politely to the MC who gave him the trophy, and he took a stand in front of the microphone. The crowd was still cheering loudly, and the more it went on the more the smile he’d fabricated was starting to hurt, enough that he couldn’t maintain it as much as he could before. His walls had broken down.
As the noise of the crowd quietened, he looked over everyone quietly. He didn't know if it was because he felt too overwhelmed or if it was because he couldn’t keep his walls up anymore, but he felt nothing. Figuratively; as he couldn’t feel an ounce of joy for his award, and physically; as all the extremities of his body felt numb, enough that he knew he wouldn’t be able to move his fingers even if he tried. Which was weird, because they kept shaking anyway. But his hold on the trophy wouldn’t budge. He kept looking at the crowd wordlessly, eyes falling on his rival actor he’d tried so hard to befriend who was now staring at him with such rage. His gaze circled back directly to the lens of the camera in front of him and he finally tried to speak. Nothing came out.
He faintly heard the MC calling out his name under his breath, trying to get him to talk. Seokjin mildly registered he sounded worried. He tried speaking again, and took a deep breath for it, but he stopped himself before he could really get a word out. Face blank, he felt as if he had fully transformed into the puppet he’d seen in his reflection earlier. He thought that he might be like Pinocchio, only in reverse. He might’ve laughed if he wasn’t actually paralyzed, standing on the stage.
He stared at the camera unblinkingly.
What’s the point?
Despite his fingers feeling unmovable, he put the trophy down on the podium, and backed up slowly before walking off the stage, passing through the crowd who was now whispering and starting to get agitated. He walked right into the bathroom, pushing people by mistake on his way. He didn’t apologize, he couldn’t speak right now. He barged into a stall and locked himself in it, his breathing getting heavier and heavier.
He knew what was going to happen, it’s not his first panic attack. And he’s felt all the signs leading up to it since he first woke up that morning.
He still tried to take deep breaths, unfastening his tie and unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt, sitting on the lid of the toilet seat. He was unsuccessful at his attempt at catching his breath, it worsened even more when his thoughts started to spiral. He tried to muffle his choked up sound by putting his sleeve onto his mouth, his entire body heaving. Tears began to roll down his cheeks like rivers, and he still couldn’t feel anything in his hands, feet, and lips. His eyes were twitching, and his ears were ringing and buzzing so much he could barely hear anything. He squeezed his eyes tight, tears still spilling out of them.
He hardly had time to recover when a few minutes later someone knocked on his stall’s door. He was breathing less harshly now, and his tears had lessened, but he still fumbled with the lock because his hands hadn’t gone back to their normal state. He opened the door, sniffling unglamourously. His manager, face still impassive and somewhat always annoyed as usual, asked him to get back on stage after a few seconds of silent staring between both men. Seokjin let out a humorless laugh that sounded like a sob to everyone around but him, stammering when he asked to get the car to get back home. His manager stayed silent again, like he was waiting for Seokjin to change his mind, before he did what Seokjin had asked for.
It was only in the car that Seokjin finally felt like he could take a proper breath, closing his eyes and leaning his head back onto the headrest. His manager sat in the passenger seat and Seokjin was thankful to have the backseat of the car all to himself. His manager was trying to talk to him, but he didn’t answer nor listen to him. He opened his window slightly, ignoring the cold, and breathed.
His fingers were able to move again.
He got out of the car as soon as it stopped in front of his building, not saying a word. His manager got out of the car too, to stop him, but it seemed like he didn't have the motivation to go on as Seokjin saw him staying near the car as he went inside. He pushed the button to call the elevator multiple times, starting to feel like every passing second was endless.
After getting out of the elevator and walking briskly to get to the door of his apartment, he mistyped his doorcode two times before getting it right. He managed to get inside after what felt like hours.
He stripped off his suit immediately, leaving it on the floor of the entryway, and he went to his bedroom. He grabbed the first set of pajamas he stumbled upon and slipped them on. They were better than his uncomfortable suit that didn’t fit him. He then walked to the bathroom and finally saw his reflection for the first time since earlier on in the day right before they left for the event. His makeup had smeared furiously from all the tears he had spilled, the flush of his face apparent under the foundation that came off. His eyes were bright red and puffy, his hair were disheveled, he looked like a true mess.
He sighed desperately and shakily, trying to keep down the tears that were threatening to spill again, and grabbed a makeup wipe. He wiped his face clean, threw the wipe away, and splashed his face with water. It felt oddly nice after all that happened.
He tucked himself to sleep that night with a heavy heart. And in the end, he didn’t sleep much.
—
The next morning, or rather at noon, he crankily opened his eyes. He was feeling drowsy and absolutely not rested. He stayed in his bed for god knows how long after he woke up, staring up at the ceiling. He simply stayed still with his eyes half opened, head on the pillow, feeling like he had the entire weight of the world on his chest.
He didn’t feel hungry despite his last meal being almost a day ago, but he did feel the need to go pee. And it's very reluctantly that he finally got up to do that.
In comparison to the day before, he just felt overwhelmingly sad, and nothing else really. After washing his hands, he tried clearing his mind by splashing water on his face. It didn't work this time.
He then made his way to the living room and turned on his TV, not finding anything else he could do from his couch except wallowing. He wrapped himself up in the blanket laying there, feeling cold despite all the layers he was wearing, and the heater being on. He put on a random sitcom he’d started to watch a while back, hoping that it’d help him with his English.
He’s 5 seasons in and his English skills still haven't budged.
He was well into his fourth episode when he heard his phone pinged from the entryway. He then remembered he had left his jacket there the night before. He didn’t move for a while, peering in the direction of his discarded suit, surprised that his phone was still charged. He had secretly hoped it would’ve died out and that he would be able to turn it back on after… After whatever the hell was going on with him.
He got up, keeping the blanket around his shoulders, and went to retrieve it. He crouched down next to his jacket and got his phone out, turning it on.
He saw that it was merely his manager sending him his next schedule. There were no other notifications, other than from 2 miscalls from his mom and her asking him to call back. There was nothing else. As much as Seokjin hated when people asked if he was okay, and that his meltdown wasn’t for attention, in the back of his mind he thought that people would care, that his manager he’d known for 10 years would say something, that the few actors he had exchanged phone numbers with would reach out and ask how he was. That he wouldn’t be alone facing this, as he usually is.
He scoffed, and a sudden wave of anger suddenly took over. He gripped his phone tightly, and before he could stop himself he threw his phone on the marbled ground. He gasped after he realized what he did and he regretted it instantly. He picked it back up and saw that the screen was entirely shattered, some small pieces even falling out of it when he shook it a little. He tried to turn it on, to check if it was still working, and it surprisingly did.
He carefully checked if the screen was still working, and it also was still tactile. He scoffed a bit dryly. He had done the ad for this exact Samsung phone for a brand deal. Now he really had honest good things to say about it.
He stood back up and he set his phone on his kitchen counter. He wiped the screen with a paper tissue, hoping to get all the loose shards out and not get hurt by the screen. After he finished that, he sat down on the couch again, still out of it from all that happened these past few days. Few weeks, even months, if he was honest with himself.
The constant lack of motivation, lack of sleep, lack of hunger… Lack of will to live-
He wasn’t fine, that’s for sure.
He looked down at his phone, looking at his reflections through all the cracks. He thought that something poetic could maybe be said about it.
Then, he unlocked it, quickly going through his contacts. He knew he wasn’t alone, he had his mother. He felt guilty for forgetting about that more often than not. His mom was his best friend, even at his big age of 35 she was always there to help him, as insignificant as the problem could be.
He clicked on the only emergency contact he had and brought his phone to his ear with shaky hands.
It rang once, twice, thrice, before his mom finally answered.
“Seokjin-ah?”
“Eomma…” Seokjin said with a shaky sigh of relief, voice wavering as he felt tears starting to pool into his eyes quite quickly.
“I called yesterday but you didn’t answer, what’s going on sweetie?” his mother inquired softly. Seokjin felt like his mom’s voice was the most comforting thing.
“I don’t…” Seokjin started, phrase cut short by a small sob he wasn’t able to suppress. He took a breath and coughed slightly. “I don’t feel well. I don’t know what to do,” he admitted quietly.
“Oh baby… How I wish I could be here with you” Seokjin knew that, but he wouldn't ask for his mother to hop on a plane from Jeju to Seoul just because he was having a childish breakdown. “I feel like you might need a break, sweetie. It's uh… It might be a bit of a stretch, but I visited Jiyeong not long ago, you know how she used to live in a village in France for a little while? You remember her? Before she went there, you used to play with his son whenever she came to see me. Namjoon, his name was. Well, she moved back to Korea a while back. Namjoon kept their house in France, however. She told me she could ask Namjoon to house me if I ever wanted to travel there one day. I don’t feel like I have enough energy to do that though, honestly, but maybe I can ask her if you could spend a short vacation there? If there's a chance you could arrange things out to be able to have some time off.”
“I don't know if they'll let me have vacation with what I did… And that’s not safe, you know if either Jiyeong or Namjoon decided to spill the beans and say where I am, that’s dangerous. And… I don't know, France is far from here…” Seokjin mumbled in a barely audible voice as he laid sideways on the couch, head resting comfortably on one of his throw pillows. He was still considering the option though, even if he was trying to find reasons not to. His mother always had the quirkiest solutions to his problems. And they’ve always worked.
“Don’t worry honey, she’s one to keep a secret. She saw you grow up Seokjinnie. She held you as a baby! She’s always respected us, you know she won’t say anything. I’m sure her son won’t either. But if you’re that anxious about it, I can find a solution.” she suggested, still speaking in that soft voice that made Seokjin feel like a kid again. "And I think a change of scenery could be good for you. She showed me some pictures of the place, it's really beautiful! And more refreshing than Seoul.”
Seokjin sighed slowly. He couldn't believe he was seriously considering it. “You're right, a change of scenery would be nice. And I trust you, if you say that she won’t say anything, I trust you… But you said that Namjoon is there? I don’t really remember how he was back when we played together.” And that’s true. Seokjin didn’t really have a lot of memories of his childhood, and he only vaguely recalls Jiyeong and her son. Some snippets of memories here and there, but not enough to make out how he could be as a person, even less now when it’s been literal decades.
“He’s very sweet, and frankly couldn’t hurt a fly. And he’s too busy with a whole farm to manage alone to really get invested in all this paparazzi mess.” she reassured, and Seokjin chuckled faintly.
“I also wanted to know if it won’t be awkward. If I won’t be in the way,” he said, an involuntary smile making itself home on his face. Just hearing his mother care for him and keeping account of his constraints made him feel a little less alone. He really should call her more.
“Oh, he’s working all the time. Jiyeong always complains about how he works too much, even. But anyways, the farm is also quite big so I don’t think you could be in his way at all even if you tried. I think it’ll do you good to go there, Seokjinnie” she said, concern seeping in his tone.
Seokjin was thinking about it, biting on his lower lip. Surely there'd be flights available tomorrow? He could convince his agency to take some time off maybe, playing the card of concerns about his health. But they might say no, and he’d be in trouble anyway. Honestly, he didn’t know what to do. So many thoughts were clashing in his head, he was starting to get a headache.
“I don’t know…” he simply said in a tiny voice.
“I’ll still ask her if it’s okay for you to come there. Let’s start here, okay? You need to take care of yourself.” his mother said in a typical mom way. “Have you been eating well? Drinking well?”
Seokjin groaned slightly in response like an angsty teenager who wants his mom to get off his back.
“Yeah, don’t worry.” he was lying through his teeth and he knew it. “I think I’m gonna take a nap. Eomma, I love you.” he said, his voice small and slightly higher pitched. He felt like a kid again.
“I love you too, son. Please call more, I miss you” she said, followed by her characteristically dramatic kiss noise. Seokjin chuckled. Maybe his dramatic behavior was genetic afterall.
They said bye again, and his heart felt lighter than it had in weeks. After they hung up, he saw that he didn’t have a lot of battery left on his phone. He got up to his room, leaving it to charge, and then came back to the couch. Wrapping the blanket tighter around him, he made himself comfortable and continued on watching his show.
He drifted off not too long after.
—
Hours later found him sitting on one of his biggest luggage filled with all the clothes and essentials he thought of, looking at the message his mother sent confirming that he could come to the farm whenever he wanted, along with the address of the place. He then looked at the unopened notification of a message sent by his manager, saying that they’ll come get him first thing in the morning tomorrow to resume his schedule and film an apology for his behavior at the award show.
Just the thought of going back to his schedule dreaded him so much, it took very little convincing to finally get his jacket on and leave his apartment without looking back.
He took the elevator down to the parking lot, trailing his heavy suitcase behind him as he strode to his car. He unlocked it, loaded his suitcase in the trunk and his backpack on the passenger seat, and sat behind the wheel. He put his hands on the wheel and took a deep breath, hesitating in the last seconds.
But it didn’t last. He put his car in reverse and got out of the parking spot, driving away towards the airport.