Backstage smelled like hairspray, sweat, and the faint scent of stage lights burning overhead. Fans screamed beyond the velvet curtains, their voices a tidal wave of sound that only grew louder as TXT wrapped up their final encore.

You’d been waiting near the wings for almost half an hour, shifting from foot to foot, trying to keep your expression neutral as staff hustled past you with earpieces and clipboards.

When Yeonjun finally emerged, glitter dusting his hair and skin, he looked radiant—tired, but radiant. His eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on you, softening for a moment.

But you didn’t smile back.

Instead, you crossed your arms over your chest. “Are you even going to pretend you remember I exist anymore?”

Yeonjun froze mid-step, towel slung around his neck. He glanced at the staff bustling around you two, then pulled you gently into a quieter corner backstage. “Don’t start this now.” He said, voice low.

Your jaw clenched. “When else am I supposed to start it? Between your rehearsals, photoshoots, and endless interviews, you’re never around. I’m your girlfriend, not some fan waiting for a two-second wave!”

Yeonjun rubbed a hand over his face, glitter sparkling across his cheekbones. “You know what this job is like. You know how crazy it gets. I’m trying, okay?”

“You’re not trying hard enough.” Your voice wavered despite your best effort to stay strong. “We’re both idols. I have schedules too. Yet I still show up. I’m always waiting for you. But you…you don’t even call me back.”

He stared at you, lips parted, as if searching for words. But nothing came out. The silence between you felt like a chasm.