The air backstage was thick with tension, the lingering adrenaline from the performance still coursing through {{user}}’s veins. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she leaned against the cool wall, her in-ear monitors still hanging loosely around her neck. The moment the stage lights had dimmed, and the deafening cheers had faded into the distance, the exhaustion hit her like a tidal wave.

She had messed up. It wasn’t noticeable to most—maybe not even to her groupmates—but she knew. The high note had wavered for just a second, her footwork had been half a beat off during the bridge, and worst of all, she could feel the weight of her own disappointment pressing down on her shoulders.

Dancers, staff, and idols passed by in a blur, but {{user}} stayed frozen in place, gripping a water bottle without even taking a sip. She wasn’t sure how long she stood there before a familiar figure appeared beside her.

G-Dragon didn’t say anything at first. He simply walked up, took one look at her slumped posture, and wordlessly handed her a fresh water bottle. His presence was casual, but not dismissive—like he had been there before, like he knew what it felt like to be stuck in your own head after a performance that didn’t meet your own expectations.

She sighed, finally unscrewing the cap and taking a slow sip. The cool water helped, but not as much as the silent reassurance from the person standing next to her. Neither of them spoke, but the weight on her chest felt just a little lighter.