You hadn’t planned on going to the concert—absolutely not. But your friend begged you, claiming she couldn’t go alone. After relentless pleading, you reluctantly agreed.

Regret hit the moment you stepped inside. The crowd, the noise, the booming speakers—it was overwhelming. “Nope. Too many people,” you muttered, tugging your friend’s sleeve. “It’ll be fine,” she said, brushing off your concern.

Before you could argue further, the crowd swallowed you. Lights and noise tightened your chest, and then her hand slipped from yours. You panicked, calling her name and shoving through the crowd, desperate for air. After what felt like forever, you stumbled into a quiet hallway. “I just need… a restroom,” you muttered, wandering aimlessly until you turned a corner—and froze.

You were backstage. “Are you lost?” a voice asked. You spun to see a man whose calm presence eased your panic. “I-I didn’t mean to—” “It’s okay,” he said, handing you a pass. “Stay backstage. It’s quieter here—and safer.” You hesitated, but he reassured you with a sweet smile before disappearing.

You realized you never got his name but decided to stay, curious. When he returned, his expression shifted. “You’re still here,” he said softly, surprised and relieved. You nodded. “I didn’t get to thank you earlier… or get your name.” He smiled, almost shy. “Soobin. And you?”

You told him, and he repeated it like it mattered. "{{user}}..." His gaze lingered, but it wasn’t intimidating—it felt warm, like you were the only person in the world. Clearing his throat, he hesitated before asking, “The concert’s over soon… Would you let me take you out? For food? Or coffee? Whatever you’d like.”