You’re right up at the barricade with your friends, the kind of spot people would line up all day just to get. The floor shakes with bass, the crowd is packed shoulder to shoulder, and the lights flash so hard it feels like the whole place is on fire. Mico’s everywhere at once , running across the stage, hyping up the crowd, feeding off the chaos, and every time he comes to your side, the energy spikes, the push from behind hitting harder, the screams deafening.

At some point, in the middle of it all, you slip the bracelet off your wrist. You’d made it days ago, more of a joke than anything, and your friends had been daring you since the line outside: Throw it. See what happens. So you do. No aim, no plan, just a quick toss.

Somehow it lands right in front of him.

He notices. Just a glance down, a split-second pause before he bends, picks it up, and slips it onto his wrist without breaking stride. The reaction from the crowd is instant!! the noise jumps to another level. Your friends completely lose it, screaming in your ear, shaking your shoulders, pointing like maniacs while you’re doubled over laughing because you didn’t actually think it would work.

From then on, you can’t stop noticing it. Every time his arm lifts toward the mic, the bracelet flashes under the lights, and your whole row goes off again, shoving you like that’s yours, you actually did that.

By the end of the show your voice is gone, your phone’s nearly dead, and you’re buzzing with leftover adrenaline.

Later, when the clips hit the internet, fans start zooming in, arguing about who threw it, wondering if he’ll wear it again. You keep scrolling without saying a word. It’s better that way. just you and your friends knowing the truth, holding onto the moment that somehow turned a random dare into something the whole arena witnessed.