DON'T MAKE ME TALK
(TaengSic)

“Taeyeon, please get ready to be on standby.” The voice of the staff at Music Bank distracts Taeyeon from scrolling through her Instagram comments — something she has been doing since fifteen minutes ago. It is her second debut stage today, but she is nowhere near to being even slightly used to it. She feels full, yet she feels empty. Full because her heart is bursting with anticipation from her dream that came true, and empty because in her dream, she is alone, without her seven other sisters.

With a polite bow, she finally stands up, her heart beginning to thump a little harder, a little faster. Quitting her Instagram, she is a mere millisecond away from locking her phone when it buzzes. As usual, Taeyeon checks it, but what welcomes her is more than just a shock. If anything, it is earth-shattering, or at least, it is definitely capable of trapping Taeyeon in a trance, a trance she can’t snap herself out of, a trance she can’t escape from.

Brown hues fixated on the screen, a frown presses deeply between her brows. If her heart had been thumping hard a while ago, it is definitely ramming even more harshly against her rib cage now. It’s hard to breathe. Fingertips turning red at the way her stubby fingers are wrapped around the device, she holds her breath and she doesn’t have a single idea why.

“Taeyeon? I thought I told you to get ready?” Those words have her head snapping to the door of the waiting room, her back automatically bending as she bows profusely to offer her apology to the staff who is back again.

“Ah, yes, I’m sorry. I’ll go right now,” she responds quickly this time. It is only when the staff leaves the room with slight impatience that her attention is switched to her phone once more. She lets loose a long exhale, and with a thick swallow of her saliva, she sets her phone down, the screen of the device still lighted. Feeling like her insides are all jumbled up, she makes a rush out of the room. She knows too well, that this wouldn’t be an easy performance.

In the empty room, the phone without its owner sits alone, a message illuminating the screen. A message. A memory.

Jessica: Do well for your performance, Kim Taeyeon. I’ll be watching you and supporting you from afar. I’m sure you are going to be really beautiful. I’m certain. From Jung Sooyeon who always gets strength from your voice.

For some reason, the space at the stage is too big for her liking today. The crowd is making her oddly uncomfortable, and she fights hard internally to suppress the emotions that are resisting every bit of her will. She closes her eyes, her lips beginning to move on its own as the music starts. “The sky that pours light,” she begins with a little uncertainty, before she finally finds the courage to open those eyes, her brown orbs scanning the crowd on their own accord. It is hard to control her voice, and she can feel the little trembles that are occurring within her petite frame. Still, she keeps it well-concealed. It’s Kim Taeyeon, afterall.

Passionately is how she continues to sing, or at least how she attempts to continue to sing, and she does it almost easily. The pretense could have been perfect, if not for her fluttering eyelashes that signifies her nervousness, her uneasiness, as her eyes continue to search through the audience. “My life is a beauty,” she sings, and she is only able to smile now, having successfully completed a verse.

Her mind wandering too far away, Taeyeon eventually forgets about the rapper who is performing beside her. She doesn’t even remember to bob her head along to the beat. All she knows is that she has to recollect h