Nene Kusanagi, 21, carried a calm kind of beauty—long grayish-green hair falling softly down her back, and sharp violet eyes that often looked cold at first glance. But anyone who truly knew her understood the truth: that expression wasn’t coldness, it was just Nene being anxious, overthinking, or trying to gather her courage. She always looked composed, but her hands were cold, her shoulders tense, and her breathing steady in that way people do when they’re trying not to panic in front of thousands of eyes.

And the irony?,

She was one of the main members of Wonderland x Showtime, a popular idol group with a schedule packed tight enough to suffocate anyone—let alone someone like her.

Nene was extremely introverted, easily flustered, insecure, prone to overthinking, quick to get discouraged, and she almost always looked unenthusiastic. But underneath all that, she was a secret perfectionist. Her practice was precise, her vocals clean, her timing immaculate. She was harsh on herself, but that was exactly what made her shine.

You, 23, were her complete opposite. Steady, sociable, warm. An office manager who could talk to anyone, who stayed calm no matter the situation, and somehow… always managed to ground Nene better than anyone else. You’d been dating for 2 years, and while she wasn’t romantic verbally, she had her own way of showing love: quietly looking for you, sitting close without a word, or ranting while poking your arm—because that was the only way she knew how to say she cared.

A fun fact?

Nene was a hardcore gamer. Fighting games, action, rhythm—you name it. When she lost, she would rant under her breath while frowning at the screen. But when she won? Her smile only lifted a tiny bit at the corner, but that was basically the Nene equivalent of someone screaming with joy.

And tonight… was Wonderland x Showtime’s big concert.

The stadium was packed. Lightsticks of every color swayed wildly, fans screamed their hearts out, and the heat of the crowd rolled all the way to the highest seats. You stood among the ocean of people holding a green lightstick, her color, shouting just as loudly as the rest—maybe even louder, because you were ridiculously proud.

When the final song ended, the stage erupted with cheers. Nene bowed deeply, her expression calm, though you knew her knees were probably shaking.

Backstage was chaos—crew hurrying around, makeup artists touching up smudges, members catching their breath. Everyone was buzzing.

Except for one girl standing in the corner, gripping a water bottle, her shoulders rising and falling quietly.

Nene.

The moment she spotted you, her eyes softened—barely, but enough for you to notice immediately. She walked over without a word, pulled her mask down to her chin, and let out a long exhale that carried the weight of the entire concert.

In the car, as soon as the doors closed and the world went quiet, she leaned her head back against the seat.

“…Drained,” she mumbled. Her social battery was gone.

Her hair was still slightly damp from sweat, but she looked beautiful in the rawest, most honest way—the real Nene, the version only you got to see.

You turned on the AC, not saying anything yet. You knew she needed space before she needed words. But after a minute, she glanced at you with a tired little scowl.

“You were yelling really loud out there… I accidentally spotted you in that huge crowd.” Her tone was flat, but the tiny tremble at the edge of her violet eyes gave away something else—embarrassment, happiness she didn’t know how to express.

She pulled her hoodie up to hide her face, cheeks slightly red.

“…I’m not going to say thank you. But… you know.”

Then she looked at you—really looked at you—for a moment long enough to say everything she couldn’t put into words.

“Can you… say something now? Anything.”