The Bouquet

Chapter 2

He had sent you the location of a little cafe called "Omela's." He was sitting in a booth in the far corner by himself, his agent and team nowhere to be seen. He had the classic celebrity in disguise look that day, a black baseball cap with rings pierced through the brim, a pair of sunglasses folded beside him, and a dust mask. You chuckled to yourself while your heart jumped, it was impossible for someone like him to look inconspicuous. There were people whose eyes were drifting to him, attracted by the mere profile of his form. Like a moth to a flame, you were just as drawn to him.

You approached him hesitantly, you probably resembled a meek little mouse rather than an actress. You gently set your bag down on the seat and slid into the booth, his head jerking up from his phone as you settled down. He hooked a long finger into the strap of his mask and tugged, pulling it free from his god-like features. Your heart almost stopped at the sight of his beautiful smile beaming just for you. Everything about him was perfect, renaissance artists would cry upon seeing his golden proportions. The only point of comparison to describe how he looked would be like a greek or roman statue, with smooth unblemished skin with strong features that could have been carved from marble. It was a miracle you hadn't melted into a puddle in your seat.

He extended his hand towards you as your name rolled elegantly off of his tongue. "It's a pleasure to meet you." His voice vibrated deep in his chest.

Your hand rose shakily as you attempted to grasp his much larger hand. You successfully managed to shake his hand while simultaneously marveling at the fact that you were holding his hand. You were embarrassed, sure that he noticed your evident fangirling as he chuckled while lightly stroking the top of your trembling hand sending your heart crashing into your ribs.

"You're shaking," He cooed, tilting his head lightly. "No need to be nervous, I won't hurt you."

What an odd thing to say.

"I know that," You began, your voice breaking from nerves as you withdrew your hand and hid it in your lap. "I'm sure you understand though, many people believe they will never meet you. Me included." You chuckled nervously.

"Yet here we are, fate has a funny way of showing itself, hm?" He hummed, his dark gaze never leaving your shy form.

"Fate? I don't know about fate having anything to do with this." You laughed, your mind filling with imagery akin to that of a young girl with a crush.

"On the contrary, I think you were destined for this role." He replied, a tender smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he slid a dense script across the table. Right, you were here for work. Not for ogling the man so many had dreamed of having the chance to see in real life.

The script was thick for what you assumed would be the pilot episode. Your fingers lightly drummed the cover of it as you took in the name of the work: "Stigma." You lifted the cover and viewed the first page, your eyes flicking across the sheet as you quickly read what was printed out.

"It's about an obsessed stalker," Taehyung spoke, his deep voice sending chills down your spine. "The show will follow him trying to win his favorite idol's love while sabotaging any opportunities she comes across to find a lover. It will be pretty dark, he is obsessive and will go to great lengths to make her his. Murder, kidnapping, stalking, sex. It's an intimidating role, but I can't imagine anyone but you playing her."

"I'm not sure if I'm cut out for this," You sighed, shrinking back into your seat as the script fluttered closed. "I'm not exactly worth obsessing over, you know?" You laughed awkwardly, and you honestly believed that. You didn't look like any female lead or idol you had ever seen, in fact, you felt like less of a woman compared to them. And that was a shitty thought to have.

Taehyung's brows furrowed in confusion, his eyes darkening like a storm was brewing behind them. Had you offended him by what you said? His long fingers scooched the script to the side as well as the drink he had been sipping at, you noted it most definitely wasn't coffee. The little fluffy marshmallows floating in the dark brew hinted at it being hot chocolate. That was surprisingly cute of him.

As your thoughts trailed off, your gaze pinned to the sweet drink, Taehyung reached over the table and found your hands once more refusing to let you leave his grip. His eyes connected with yours, an intense silence ensued for a few moments as his thumbs comfortingly swept over your clenched knuckles. You wouldn't be surprised if your heart had stopped that very moment, blood rushing to your cheeks and staining them crimson.

"If I didn't think you could do this, I wouldn't have asked for you." He said, his tone matter of fact. "I see how you throw yourself into your work, no matter how small or insignificant it may appear to others you give it your all. I saw you on set last night and you were perfect, the way you can emulate fear and desperation so fluidly is something many actors aren't able to do. You were meant for this role, I promise you it will feel natural."

He saw you last night? Embarrassment ran hot through your body, a seasoned actor like him had watched your performance. Had you known he was there maybe you would have tried even harder, but whatever he had seen had impressed him beyond belief and made him believe you were the perfect one for the job without a shadow of a doubt. If someone like Kim Taehyung thought you were good enough, then just maybe you were.

"I'm sure there will be plenty of other women in the casting call, some who are more experienced than I am." You replied, flustered from his praise but still grounded enough to ask him the important questions.

"There will be no casting call," He smiled. "You're the one I want." He said, his voice dropping as he tangled your fingers together, his deep eyes trained on the sight.

"No casting call? What do you mean?" You asked, shock and confusion evident on your face.

"As the creator of the show I've been giving some creative liberties, casting was one of them." He explained in a nonchalant manner like what he had said didn't really matter.

"You-you wrote this?" You asked, your nail tapping the cover of the script once more. He only hummed in response, his eyes glazed over as he continued gazing at your hands, his fingers delicately tracing and playing with your own like you were fine china prone to break with one wrong movement.

"This, this is really big." You breathed, the reality of the situation washing over you.