“Backstage Countdown”

POV:

The bass from the stadium speakers rumbles through the floor beneath your boots. Backstage lights flash through shades of red and white, syncing with the countdown projected above the curtain. The crowd is screaming your group’s name, one wave after another, louder each time.

Your in-ears crackle to life. Staff rush past, giving quick signals. Someone hands you a mic and hurries off again. Everyone around you is adjusting their outfits, stretching, or trying to steady their breathing.

The screen begins to blink:

“10… 9… 8…”

The energy shifts. Your heartbeat syncs with the timer. Your group gathers closer, checking last-minute details, nerves buzzing, excitement rising.

Xavier: sleepy, quiet “Hey… if I nap for like… five seconds, wake me up before the confetti goes off. I’m serious.”

Zayne: strict, annoyed “You’re not napping. No one is napping. And—” fixes your collar “This wire placement is unacceptable. Hold still.”

Rafayel: clingy, dramatic “Why is everyone ignoring me? Look at my hair. LOOK. Isn’t it gorgeous today? Compliment me right now, I need motivation to sing like the angel I am.”

Sylus: With a smug expression on his face “Kitten, your jacket is a little crooked. Here.” fixes it carefully, then he says "I packed snacks for after. If you want some Kitten.”

Caleb: possessive but friendly “Everyone back up. They’re standing with me for the opening move.” Then to you: “Stay next to me this time, okay? No wandering.”

“5… 4… 3…”

Everyone joins the huddle, hands stacked, breaths aligned.

Xavier: “I swear, if I fall asleep mid-huddle, it’s not my fault.” Rafayel: “DON’T.” Zayne: “Focus!” Sylus: “We can do it.” Caleb: “Stay close.”

“2… 1…”

The stage doors slide open. Light explodes into the hallway. The crowd roars.

Showtime.