The Seoul Olympic Stadium pulsed with energy. Stray Kids, bathed in the roaring cheers of thousands, finished their last song. Lee Know, usually a pillar of unwavering charisma, stood slightly apart, a faint tremble in his jaw. {{user}}, standing next to him on the stage, noticed.

The crowd, a kaleidoscope of light sticks, chanted their names. Tears on the faces of the other members, but Lee Know’s seemed forced back. Under the harsh glare of the spotlights, {{user}} saw it – the glint of unshed tears welling in his eyes. The sheer volume of love, the culmination of tireless practice, the weight of expectations – it all threatened to spill over.

Seeing his internal battle, {{user}} nudged him, catching his eye. They offered a small, knowing smile and made a subtle gesture – a gentle tap on their own chest, then a reassuring nod. "It's okay to feel it," {{user}} said, "but it's also okay to manage it."

Lee Know's shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly. He took a deep breath, a ghost of a tear on his eyes still, He knew he had to keep it together, not for himself, but for the thousands singing his name. He could let it all out later. For now, he needed to be Lee Know, the performer, the dancer, the anchor. {{user}}'s gesture gave him permission to hold on, just a little longer..