So, it's been a while, I know. This is a small thing I wrote since I felt curious as to what famous people were behind their perfection and how they felt inside. We never know, right? I assume this is how it goes, but it's just my imagination, honestly...

They Didn't Know Us ~ in the perspective of Jimin

The crowds roared as we entered the stage. NamJoon was upfront along with Tae by his side and the rest of us followed behind them in a scattered group.

My body reacted to the screaming with a shiver of nervousness, but it was nothing compared to my first time. I felt a surge of energy when the bright light of our spotlight shone on my face. My mind went blank and my numb hand brought the mic to my chest in preparation for the performance ahead.

As soon as Joon ended his introduction and the crowds began to quieten down, the music started to play and it was no longer me, but my voice, which was in control. I barely heard myself as I sang my parts of the song. I hadn't even registered which one it was, but my voice seemed to know right away. I kept a smile plastered on to my face - I was used to stage presence and it had become second nature to me every time we walked on stage.

As far as I was aware, we performed without failure. The girls in the crowd screamed, desperately clawing at the air while a majority had tears streaming down their faces from the intensity of their admiration.

Did they really admire us, though?

Was it just our made up characters, the ones that appeared on interviews and in public, that captured their attention?

No matter how much they hollered or cried, how many gifts we received from all over the world or how many fans we had, my own heart couldn't feel as loved as one should've felt in my place. Maybe I was just selfish? Maybe I was ungrateful?

When the song ended and the lights dimmed, we gave them a light-hearted farewell and fooled around on stage as if we didn't care. Maybe it was only I who didn't care? But, when we laughed at our idiocy and gave the audience a mini-show of our youthful foolishness, I couldn't see the light in their eyes just like I couldn't feel it in my own heart.

Once the show was brought to a finish by the host and we made our way out, our smiles dropped to hang upside down and our minds returned to reality.

When we were off-stage, we were less careful of our impression on the people around us. How could we care about keeping on a hollow grin when everyone around us seemed to stress us out even more?

The fans wouldn't stop wailing and screaming in our ears. They wouldn't move to let us breathe, let alone walk like an average human being. Was it so hard to feel human when you were famous? Were we just a bunch of pretty faces with good voices and nothing more?

The people swarmed the streets while we struggled to find our way to our vehicle.

Someone started pulling on my jacket and I turned my head to gaze into a pair of glistening, blue eyes. Her sobs wracked me for a mysterious reason as I took in her shaking figure and her clenched hand clinging to the leather of my jacket. All I was doing was what I love to do - sing. And yet, at the same time as I achieved my goals and lived my dream, I seemed to hurt the very people granting me those wishes.

As fast as I had caught her desperate stare, it was torn away from mine and she disappeared among the sea of many others of her kind. I ignored the bodyguard as he shoved a large hand between myself and the other girls who had pushed their way forward and wondered why we had chosen this dream over our little dreams.

Suddenly, like at the end of every other performance in the last few years, they seemed enough for me.

When we finally made it to our ride, all we could hear was the pounding of the fists on the windows and the hum of the car's engine.

The others looked just as shaken as myself, apparently. Their hair was dishevelled, their eyes were wet, their brows were creased and their hands were shaking. It's funny how the fans never noticed how worn out we were, despite being mere inches away whenever we went out in public. And when they weren't too busy bawling their eyes out at our mere physical existence, all they saw were our made up faces and characters through a cunning screen. In their eyes, we were perfect.

We were everything they'd ever want, simply because they didn't know us. What was underneath the miracle-working makeup? What were the flaws behind the consummate dance moves? What were we, when we weren't under the spotlight?

They didn't have a clue and they never would.

They didn't know us.

e n d

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