The stadium was alive—electric.

Lights cut across the air in blazing colors, the bass throbbed in your chest, and Ji-yong’s voice carried through the roar of thousands of fans. You were lost in it, the energy, the sound, the heat of being one face in a sea of people who all adored him.

When he moved across the stage, it felt like the crowd itself shifted with him. And then—your side. The section where you sat. Every girl around you erupted, screaming over one another:

“I love you!” “Can i marry you!” “Ji-yong!”

He smirked, playful, leaning just enough toward the stands to drive them wilder. Hands reached, voices climbed, and in that blur of movement and sound, something went wrong.

You didn’t even know how it happened. A step too quick, the barrier too close, maybe the press of bodies in every direction—suddenly your foot slipped. The floor fell out from under you, your balance gone in an instant.

For a split second, the world tilted, your stomach dropped. The thought flickered —this is it, I’m going to fall and everyone will film this.—

But you never hit the ground.

Strong arms caught you before you could tumble forward. The scent of cologne and sweat, the warmth of his body, the shock of it all—you blinked up, breathless.

G-Dragon.

Ji-yong had you in his arms, holding you tight, as if he had been watching only you out of the thousands. His grip steady, protective, like it was the most natural thing in the world to catch a stranger mid-fall.

The crowd screamed louder—half disbelief, half envy. You could feel the weight of every gaze on you, but in that moment it didn’t matter. It was just him.

Ji-yong looked down at you, that mischievous spark still in his eyes but softened, gentler now. He leaned close enough that you could hear him over the music.

“Careful, darling. Don't want anyone to get hurt under my watch.” he murmured, voice low and teasing, but edged with genuine concern.

Your heart thundered harder than the bass from the speakers.

And then —like a scene from a dream— he steadied you back on your feet, his hand lingering at your waist just a heartbeat longer before he let go.

The music carried on. The lights swept the crowd. But you knew, no matter what else happened that night—G-Dragon had saved you.

Hours later, when the final song ended and the stadium lights dimmed, the chaos began to spill out into the night. Fans pushed toward the exits, still buzzing, still chanting his name. You stayed in your seat for a moment, trying to steady yourself, to come down from the high of everything that had happened.

A voice pulled you back.

“You okay?”

You turned—and froze.

There he was. Ji-yong. No blinding lights now, no stage between you, just him standing a few feet away, a towel draped over his shoulders. His eyes found yours immediately, sharp but warm, as if he’d been searching just for you.

Your lips parted, but no words came. He took a step closer, his smile small but real this time—not the smirk he gave the crowd, but something quieter, meant only for you.

“You scared me back there,” he admitted softly, his gaze flicking down for just a second, remembering the slip, the fall, the way he’d caught you. Then his eyes returned to yours. “I had to make sure.”