Note: This is a tiny fic that was not based on a song, but rather an event that happened at the Hollywood Film Awards today between Kate Winslet and Allison Janney. I'm so glad the world is becoming a gayer place :)

The Award

"I know I don't really know you, but I just want to be you, I do

Or just you or something ... I mean, we could always kiss, maybe?"

---

Wheein fidgeted in her seat.

Nearly a year ago, the young actress held no hope for success when she burst into auditions on a dare—never in her dreams had she expected to be sitting in a velvet-covered auditorium filled to the brim with tight dresses and prim suits.

“Are you alright?” Wheein turned to the woman beside her and recognized her immediately as the lead actress in last year’s award-winning animation. The poignant story of two animals overcoming inequality in an allegorical masterpiece had moved Wheein to tears. All she could do was gape, partially to suppress her inner cinephile, and partially because despite how much she loved the film, she could not remember the actress’s name.

“Miss Jung?”

A celebrity was saying her name! Oh God, she knew her name, her frantic mind screamed. Outwardly, her lips pressed into a thin smile. “I’m fine, thank you,” she said calmly.

“Is it your first time at these events?”

Wheein nodded. “It’s, uh, not really my thing.”

Wheein hated these fancy events. When she received the invitation a few months ago, she had scoffed and nearly tore the envelope in two. Film, she argued, was an art form. These events were an insult to the craft, and, as she told her producer, “A day for all the rich jerks to each other’s .” Her producer had cringed, then said five little words that changed everything:

“Ahn Hyejin will be there.”

And sure enough, two rows down, exactly five seats to the right, poised perfectly below the chandelier, was Ahn Hyejin. Wheein sighed in her direction.

Before Ahn Hyejin, Wheein was a regular film buff. The kind who could recite lines, and rhapsodize about the mise-en-scene without ever remembering an actor’s name—they were just part of the art, she said, why should they get all the accolades? But smouldering, perfect Ahn Hyejin, two-time Academy Award nominee with a twenty-three-film track record, introduced Wheein to the world of obsession.

The actress was, by all accounts, an underdog in the world of sparkle and glamour, but if anyone asked Wheein, Ahn Hyejin was perfect. Not only was she talented and professional, she was charitable, loving, and melted her cool exterior just for her fans. She couldn’t tell you why all of these factors mattered, but if anyone contested these facts, she would fight them tooth and nail.

The dare, in fact, had been a ridiculous attempt to get over her obsession—her walls were running out of space for her posters, after all. Unexpectedly, Wheein found that she had great talent for acting, and quickly garnered a following.

It was no secret that Wheein was crazy about Ahn Hyejin. Last July, she had sat in her apartment with sweating palms as tweeted “Happy birrthday!” at the actress’s official handle. She then spent the rest of her day kicking herself for the ridiculous typo while her loyal fans gathered as many likes as possible in an attempt to get Hyejin’s attention. Wheein could still remember the way her heart soared when she received a reply: “Thank you. I love your work.”

She must’ve read it a million times. In fact, she even contemplated printing out the tweet and framing it, but her last shreds of dignity held her back.

Suddenly, the lights dimmed. Wheein looked to the woman beside her, realizing just then that she had been so busy gawking longingly at Ahn Hyejin that she’d completely shut down the woman beside her. She sighed once more, briefly lamenting her lost chance at befriending a celebrity because she was too busy pining over a woman two rows down, much too far away for her short reach.

The host crossed the stage to proceed with the ceremony. Unimpressed, Wheein dozed off during the opening monologue. In fact, she slept through most of the awards, and would have continued sleeping soundly in her seat with her arms crossed if it weren’t for a sudden white light burning directly through her eyelids.

Jolting awake, she cursed under her breath. The white light filled her vision as she heard her name being called from far away. She couldn’t see the hundreds of eyes watching her, but somehow felt the prickle of their gaze uncomfortably against her. A brief moment of mortification flashed through her mind as she pictured Ahn Hyejin watching her rub the sleep out of her eyes.

“The award for Best New Actress goes to Jung Wheein!” The presenter repeated.

Applause and cheering filled Wheein’s ears. She awkwardly slipped out of the row of theatre seats and down the steps toward the stage in a surreal haze. She wondered whether she was still dreaming. Would her friends laugh at her now for being a part of a system she once hated? She was so deep in her disbelief as she crossed the stage that she paid no attention to any other living beings around her. It was only when she reached the glass podium that she recognized the perfectly coifed head that she had spent so much of the evening familiarizing herself with. Ahn Hyejin, her soul squeaked at her in high-frequency panic. She stopped, several steps shy of the podium, and froze, as if she would pass out as soon as she stepped closer.

Hyejin blinked back at her, and extended the trophy in her hand.

The crowd was still cheering, perhaps. Wheein couldn’t hear a thing over the beating of her own heart.

When Wheein made no move to receive the trophy, Hyejin furrowed her brows. She stepped forward and grabbed the young actress by the wrist to position her in front of the podium. Wheein woke up at the light touch, and blushed, mumbling her apology as she grabbed the trophy just a bit too aggressively in her flustered state.

“Uhm,” she said into the microphone, flinching a little at the unexpected volume of her own voice, “Thank you so much.” She ran through a list of people she wanted to thank as she grappled to recall the hastily composed speech her agent had made her write. Finally, she took a breath. “This is just the beginning of my journey, but I feel so honoured to be in this room with so many amazing talents.” Unable to recall any other names, she blurted, “L-like Ahn Hyejin!” She turned to her with a nervous grin. The woman responded with a quirk of an eyebrow, though she looked decidedly amused. “You are such an inspiration and I just want to be you. I know you don’t know me very well aside from that one time I wished you happy birthday—not that I’m expecting you to remember—but, y’know, you’re super great and I want to be you.” Her eyes flicked down to Hyejin’s smirking lips. “Or, like, touch you in a totally not creepy way. Or kiss you. Something like that. Anyway, I—”

Hyejin stepped into her space and leaned into the microphone. “That could be arranged,” she said in a low purr. 

The crowd roared.

Wheein was about to pinch herself when Hyejin gently held her jaw and kissed her—bold, confident, and with enough heat to melt Wheein from the inside out. So much so that she was sure she out for a moment afterwards.

The crowd went wild with Wheein’s beating heart.

When she is seated again, people all around her congratulated her. She thanked them automatically, but if not for the glass trophy in her hand, she never would’ve believed it was real. She brought a finger to her lips, then looked on at the familiar place two rows down.

Ahn Hyejin was back in her seat.

This time, their eyes met.