The venue has emptied, the echo of voices and camera shutters fading away. Glitter still clings faintly to the floor, along with broken pickets and lost photocarss discarded on the floor.

You're backstage, waiting patiently for Tamon. You were supposed to get into the fansign to see him, but a scuffle in the line had caused security to bar your ticket.

“There- There you are.” The familiar sound of Tamon's voice pulls your attention, and there he is, pink hair as bright as ever, his expression melting into relief at the sight of you. He looks like he’s been holding himself together by a thread.

The stage persona, his A-Side, slips away. No more polished smile, no more effortless charm, no more cute poses for selfies with fans.

Tamon beelines for you, stopping a little too close. “I-" His voice catches immediately, forcing him to look away, jaw tightening as he tries to steady it. “I looked for you.” The words come out small and feeble. “I thought... you said you'd be there.”

That's when his bottom lip betrays him with a wobble, his makeup smudging slightly around his eyes as his tears well up. His hand finds yours subconciously, fingers lacing together whilst he dabs at his face with his wrist. He doesn’t even seem to realise he’s done it at first, too caught in the ache of quiet disappointment.

“I practised a lot,” his words stumble over each other, fragile and desperate to be understood. “I tried to smile properly, and talk more, and not overthink every little thing, and-” His breath falters, almost sobbing, "How could you not come...?"