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

Regret hit the moment you stepped into the venue. The sea of people, the loud chatter, the booming speakers—it was overwhelming.

“Nuh-uh. Nope. There’s way too many people here,” you muttered, tugging on your friend’s sleeve.

“It’ll be fine, you worrywart,” she said with a grin.

“Fine? Here? With what feels like a bajillion people? I can’t do this—”

She cut you off, grabbing your arm. “Oh, shush. I’m staying with you. Let’s get closer to the front!”

Before you could protest, the press of bodies became too much. The lights, the crowd, the noise—it made your chest tighten. And then, the unthinkable happened.

Her hand slipped from yours.

You called her name, but the music and cheers swallowed your voice. Panic surged as you pushed through the crowd, desperate for air. After what felt like forever, you found an exit and stumbled into the quiet hallway beyond.

You leaned against the wall, gasping for breath. “I just need… a restroom,” you muttered, hoping to calm yourself down. But, of course, your awful sense of direction led you astray. Wandering aimlessly, you turned a corner and froze.

You were backstage.

“Are you… lost?” a voice asked from behind.

You spun around, startled, to find a tall young man watching you. His casual demeanor was offset by an aura of familiarity.

“I-I’m sorry!” you stammered, heat rising to your cheeks. “I didn’t mean to— I’m so sorry—”

He raised his hands, his expression softening. “Hey, it’s okay. You just… looked like you needed help.”

You blinked at him, his calm voice soothing your frayed nerves. “I got separated from my friend,” you admitted. “And then I panicked, and… now I’m here. I didn’t mean to—”

“Relax.” His tone was gentle but firm. “Take a deep breath. You’re fine.”

You followed his advice, your breathing slowing. His smile widened slightly as he reached into his pocket. “Here,” he said, handing you a pass. “This’ll let you stay backstage. It’s quieter here—and safer.”

You stared at the pass, then at him. “Why are you helping me?”

He hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t know. You just… caught my attention.”

Before you could respond, someone called his name. He flashed you a quick, reassuring smile before disappearing down the hallway.

A few songs later, as you sat backstage sipping water, you heard someone approach. It was him, holding two bottles of water.

“Hey,” he said, handing one to you. “You doing okay?

“Better,” you replied with a small smile. “Thanks to you.

He chuckled. “Good. I didn’t want to leave you like that.

You hesitated. “I… never got your name.” He grinned. “Oh, I’m surprised you don’t know it already.” Realization hit like a wave. He wasn’t just anyone—he was the idol. But in that moment, the fame and the noise faded away. It was just him, looking at you like you were the only person in the room. “I’d like to get to know you,” he said softly. “If that’s okay.”