The music faded. The lights dimmed. The final chant echoed into silence. And still—you couldn't move. You stood at the edge of the stage-level barrier, arms resting against the railing, chest rising and falling as your ears rang with thousands of voices and your heart pounded like you were the one who just performed. But it wasn't just the show.
It was them.
Chan's eyes on you during every verse that mattered. Hyunjin's pointed gesture, full of playful tension and unspoken meaning. Lee Know's unwavering gaze—intense, heavy, personal.
Your voice was half gone from cheering. Your fingers trembled with adrenaline. You pressed one hand to your chest, grounding yourself. You hadn't just watched the concert. You'd lived inside it. You'd asked to be a fan for one night—and they let you.
But even now, with the crowd dispersing and the staff resetting the floor for teardown, you felt something more. They hadn't just performed for the fans. They had performed for you.
You took a breath and turned, a security escort already waiting to guide you back inside.
Backstage. Back to them.
The hallway was quieter now, but not calm. The energy pulsed through the concrete, thick with sweat, sound, and unsaid things. You were led down a familiar path—past the dressing rooms, toward the green room you'd stood in before. But this time? It felt different. More intimate. More charged.
When you stepped in, it was dimly lit, echoing with the sound of post-show showers, water bottles cracking open, and low laughter.
Felix spotted you first, hair damp, hoodie already on. "There she is," he grinned. "The only person we cared about seeing in the crowd."
Hyunjin turned from the mirror, sweat still glistening on his neck. "You wore the top," he murmured again, eyes scanning you like he couldn't believe you were real.
Lee Know leaned against the back wall, arms crossed, watching—but you felt the heat in his gaze before he even spoke. And then, the door opened.
Chan. Still shirtless, towel around his shoulders, hair pushed back and dripping. His eyes locked on yours instantly. And the room... quieted. No one needed to say anything. They all felt it. He walked toward you slowly, carefully, like he was trying not to explode after holding it in all night.
You tried to smile, tried to breathe—but when he reached you, you whispered the only thing that mattered: "You saw me."
Chan stopped in front of you, voice rough. "I couldn't look anywhere else."
The green room was loud again—but not from pressure or nerves this time. Laughter.
The kind that comes after something unforgettable. After giving your all. The boys had changed into hoodies and joggers, hair still damp, towels draped around their shoulders. You sat comfortably on the couch now, drink in hand, heart still trying to slow down.
Han tossed a protein bar at I.N, who caught it midair. Seungmin was poking at Hyunjin's eyeliner smudge.But then Felix turned to you, grinning. "Okay, real talk now—how was it?"
All heads turned toward you, even Chan—though his eyes hadn't really left you since you walked back in.
You blinked, overwhelmed. "It was... everything."
"Be more dramatic," Han said, flopping down on the couch next to you. "We just gave you our souls out there."
You laughed. "Okay. Then it was explosive. Beautiful. Hot. Emotional. And—"
"And?" Chan said softly, leaning against the arm of the couch near you.
You looked at him, no teasing now. "And unforgettable."
That quieted the room for a moment.
Hyunjin let out a low breath. "You felt it too, huh?"
You nodded. "I don't think I'll ever see a stage the same way again."
Lee Know smirked. "Yeah, well... we'll never see the front row the same way again either."
The room burst into quiet laughter again, but you caught it—the small, meaningful look between him and Chan.
Eventually, the energy shifted. A few members started packing up, some stretching out on the floor, exhaustion creeping in.
Felix stood and smiled at you one last time. "You were our anchor tonight."
And with that, the boys started filtering out. Until only three remained. Hyunjin hovered near the door, eyes flicking to you, then to Chan. He opened his mouth to say something... then thought better of it. Lee Know stood with his arms folded, watching the same way he always did—quiet, careful, unreadable. But even he gave you a nod, one that said, this is your moment now.
They both stepped out. And you were alone. With him.
The door clicked shut behind Hyunjin and Lee Know. Silence fell over the room, heavy with everything you hadn't said yet. Chan stood just a few feet from you, hoodie unzipped, chest still rising and falling from the adrenaline of the show. His damp hair curled slightly at the edges, framing his sharp jaw and those eyes—eyes that hadn't stopped following you all night. He didn't move. He didn't have to.
The tension between you was alive. Breathing.
You took a small step forward. "I meant what I said after the show," you said softly. "It really was unforgettable."
His lips curved, just slightly—but there was something unreadable in his expression. Something intense. Guarded, but slipping.
He stepped closer, slowly. "You watched me like I mattered."
"You do," you whispered.
That cracked him open. He closed the distance completely now, standing toe-to-toe with you. His voice dropped low, rough from performance and restraint. "You don't know what you did to me out there," he murmured. "I was leading a show in front of thousands, but all I could see was you. You stood there like you belonged beside the music, not behind the barrier."
Your breath hitched as his fingers reached out, brushing your hip—just lightly enough to send shivers across your skin.
"And then when I looked again," he added, "you were smiling. Like you saw through every wall I've built."
Your hand found his chest, warm under your palm, his heartbeat steady but strong. "I did see through it," you said. "And I stayed anyway."
His jaw clenched. "You're dangerous."
You smiled. "So are you."
And then? He leaned in. His lips brushed yours—tentative, asking, testing—and when you didn't pull away, he deepened it slowly. It wasn't rushed. It wasn't desperate. It was intentional. His mouth molded to yours like he was finally giving in to everything he'd been holding back. One hand slid to the back of your neck, the other wrapping firmly around your waist as he pulled you closer. You melted into him, your hands gripping his hoodie as your breath caught between kisses.
He pulled back only slightly, forehead pressed to yours, both of you gasping quietly in the low light. "I haven't felt like this in a long time," he said, voice cracked open with honesty. "Like something real... something I don't have to hide behind."
You traced his jaw gently with your thumb. "Then don't hide it. Not with me."
He kissed you again—hotter this time, hungrier, but still slow, still anchored in the moment.
When you finally broke apart, he rested his hand on your waist, grounding himself. "Stay for a little while longer?"
"I'm not going anywhere," you said, voice soft.
And in the quiet that followed, no stage lights, no screams—just two people breathing each other in—you realized something: This wasn't just a moment. It was a beginning.