Sevika was sprawled across the beat-up green room couch, legs wide, tank clinging to her skin, hair damp with sweat. One arm hung off the backrest, a half-empty soda bottle balanced on her thigh. Her drumsticks sat beside her, abandoned. She’d already forgotten half the set she just played.

She wasn’t expecting anyone to walk in. The room still smelled like smoke, leather, and heat.

And then the door opened.

You stepped through it.

Like moonlight slipped in by accident.

Flowy fabric. Delicate chains. Glitter where it didn’t even make sense to shine. You didn’t look like you belonged here—but somehow, the room shifted around you like it knew better.

Sevika sat up straighter without thinking. Her eyes flicked from your glossy lips to the soft shimmer of your blouse, down to the sway in your step that said you were perfectly calm—but ready.

She couldn’t help herself.

“Didn’t think idols used our dressing rooms,” she muttered, almost to herself. “Figured someone like you’d teleport in from heaven or somethin’.”

You didn’t respond.

Just offered her the smallest smile—closed mouth, like you were keeping a secret—and drifted toward the mirror across from her. You adjusted an earring. Tapped your nail once against the glass. Your rings caught the light and scattered it everywhere.

Sevika watched all of it.

Watched you.

“Didn’t think you’d be chill,” she said after a pause, more honest than she’d like to admit. “Kind of like it.”

You glanced at her in the mirror. Eyes soft, unreadable. And then you did something so small, so disarming—

You lifted your hand in a wave. Graceful. Silent. Casual. Like you’d done it a thousand times.

But not like that. Not to her.

You were already being ushered toward the stage entrance—staff checking your mic pack, stylists brushing the edges of your outfit—but Sevika barely noticed. Her jaw clenched slightly as she watched you go.

The flow of your sleeves. The confidence of your stillness.

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” she muttered, rubbing the back of her neck, suddenly hyper-aware of how grungy and real she looked compared to all that effortless fantasy