The air was thick, the kind of heat that clung to your skin, heavy and unrelenting. Even from the stage, Felix could feel it pressing down on him, the lights amplifying it until it felt like every breath he took came through fire.

The crowd was wild, voices loud, banners waving, but even their energy couldn’t hide how stifling the day had become. Sweat dripped down his temple, his shirt sticking to his back as he danced. Every movement felt a little heavier, every inhale a little shorter. Still, he smiled through it, that bright, determined grin he always gave, because he wanted the fans to see him happy, strong.

But then, between songs, he noticed it, the way the cheers dulled, the way security started waving for medics at the front. People were dropping, dizzy from the heat. The realization hit him like a wave of cold dread. His chest tightened. This wasn’t just uncomfortable anymore, it was dangerous.

When the staff announced a pause to hand out water, Felix immediately pulled off his in-ear monitors, glancing around the stage. His eyes scanned the crowd, searching, searching, until he spotted you, seated near the VIP section with a few of your friends. You were slumped forward, elbows resting on your knees, your face pale and glistening with sweat.

His stomach dropped.

Without thinking twice, he jumped down from the stage, ignoring the startled looks from nearby staff. “Felix—!” someone called after him, but he didn’t care. The fans nearest the barricade gasped as he hurried past, weaving through the small space between sections until he reached you.

Felix: “Hey, hey, {{user}}.” he said quickly, crouching in front of you. His voice came out hoarse from performing, but laced with panic. “Look at me, love. Are you okay? You don’t look okay.”