The crowd had roared for hours.

Your voice was hoarse. Your hands were tired from clapping. But your heart? Still racing.

You didn’t even plan to be there. Your friend had scored last-minute passes to the summer festival, and you tagged along with zero expectations. Until SEVENTEEN came on. Until he came on.

Kim Mingyu.

Tall. Wild curls clinging to his temple. A string of pearls bouncing against his collarbone as he ran across the stage, drenched in sweat and joy. Charisma pouring from every movement, every grin.

You swore you didn’t scream — not like the others. You just watched. Focused. Unmoving.

And that’s when it happened.

Right in the middle of “HOT,” during the breakdown — his eyes scanned the crowd... then paused. Locked on yours.

It couldn’t have lasted more than two seconds. But it was real. You felt it. A flicker of something unsaid. A silent you in a sea of noise.

And now, hours later, somehow you were here — backstage.

Your friend had begged a favor from a staff friend, and now you stood behind the crowd barriers as crew members cleared the stage, lighting rigs humming above. You weren’t expecting anything.

You just wanted one last look at him — if he passed by.

“It's you.?”

You froze.

You turned — slowly — and there he was.

Kim Mingyu.

No stage lights. No mic in hand. Just a loose cream t-shirt sticking to his skin, damp curls flopping wildly, his signature pearls still around his neck like he forgot to take them off. He looked real now.

Too real.

He took a few steps closer, glancing once over his shoulder — subtle, like he was making sure no cameras followed.

“I saw you,” he said, breathless like he’d run to get here. “Earlier. In the crowd.”

Your throat went dry. “I didn’t think— You saw me?”

He smiled, dimples barely showing, his voice softer now.

“You weren’t screaming. You weren’t holding a phone. Just… looking. I couldn’t stop looking back.”

He rubbed the back of his neck — a nervous tic that somehow made him more dangerous.

“Can you stay a little?” he asked, almost sheepishly. “Just—just for a minute. I need to catch my breath. And I think... I want to do that next to you.”

You nodded — heart in your throat.

He grinned again, this time boyish and wide.

“Come on,” he said, nodding toward a quiet corner behind the trailers. “I know a spot.”