~ The Concert ~
Chapter 2 ~
One week later – concert day.
You wake with a jolt as your best friend lands with a thud on top of you. You shove her off, watching her sprawl face-first onto the carpet. “What the—?” she groans, rubbing her head. “This is what you get for trying to smother me in my sleep.”
A quick glance at the clock sends a wave of panic through you. Four hours. Only four hours to get ready, and Nina had insisted on a salon visit and a shopping spree for new concert outfits.
You tugged on a black tank top and grey sweats, twisting your hair into a messy bun. Nina was still sprawled on the floor, a picture of blissful sleep. “Get your ass up, or I’m leaving you!” You threatened, and she flinched awake, stumbling toward the bathroom. You quickly threw together a sandwich, patiently waiting as Nina prepared herself.
Outside, the salon buzzed with energy. You emerged hours later, hair expertly styled, a new outfit tucked into your bag. Back home, you slipped into a simple blue dress, the fabric cut away on the side and patterned with delicate white flowers. White sneakers completed the look, paired with a vibrant red purse. You rarely bothered with appearances, but today felt different, a desire to look…good.
“Wow,” Nina breathed, grinning. “Is that really you, Y/N?” You flushed with embarrassment. “I just…wanted to look extra cute today. Is there a problem?” You raised an eyebrow, anticipating her teasing.
“I never thought I’d see the day Y/N actually put effort into her appearance,” Nina retorted, trying to stifle a laugh. “Let’s go, we’re already late!” You pushed the thought of merch to the back of your mind, eager to secure a spot before the stores were picked clean.
Inside the stadium, the energy was electric. You took your seats, the glow sticks of thousands of ARMY members illuminating the darkness. As the show began, you turned on your army bomb, joining the chorus of cheers. After a few songs, a familiar discomfort bubbled in your stomach.
“I shouldn’t have had that juice,” you muttered internally. “I need to go.” You yelled it at Nina, who was lost in the euphoria of the performance, seemingly oblivious to the world around her. You decided to just go.
A guard’s eyes met yours, and you asked for directions to the restroom. “There, on the right,” she pointed to a narrow hallway. “Thank you.” You bowed and headed in the direction she indicated.
Two doors stood before you, and a wave of anxiety washed over you. You didn’t want to stumble into a restricted area. Taking a deep breath, you reached for the handle of the first door on the right, twisting it slowly. Before you could fully open it, a groan sliced through the air.
It was a sound of pure pain. You hesitated, hand on the knob, then heard someone shout, “We need a fucking medic, or he’s not going to be able to continue the show!” Another voice responded, “Okay, I’ll call for one, but traffic’s insane. It’ll take a while.”
Without thinking, your medical instincts kicked in. You found yourself standing between three men: a crew member, Manager Sejin, and…Kim Taehyung.
Someone demanded, “What are you doing here?” You blinked, pulled back to reality. “I…I was looking for the restroom and overheard you needing a medic.”
Sejin narrowed his eyes. “And?”
“Oh, sorry. I’m a medical resident, if you don’t mind me helping.” He studied you, assessing your intentions. The crew member chimed in, “The medics won’t be here anytime soon.”
You relaxed, bracing yourself. “Look, I understand your concern, but I have no intentions of doing anything inappropriate. I just want to help.” You locked eyes with Sejin, determined to project confidence.
Taehyung groaned again, louder this time, sweat beading on his forehead as he clutched his ankle.
“Okay, just help him, and please do it quickly,” Sejin conceded. You nodded, kneeling before Taehyung.
“Please stop!” Taehyung rasped, his voice laced with pain. A strong hand gripped your dress, pulling you closer. Surprised, you gently took his hand and held it in yours. “I know it hurts, but I need to examine it properly to help you.” You spoke softly, urging him to trust you. He stared at you, then nodded, and you continued your assessment.
“He sprained his ankle,” you said, looking up at Taehyung and Sejin. “The swelling and bruising indicate a significant sprain.” They both waited for you to continue.
“I’m sorry, but he needs to avoid putting any weight on it. No dancing, no walking.” You watched Taehyung’s face fall, shock etched into his features. He said nothing.
“Is there anything else?” Sejin asked, rubbing Taehyung’s shoulder comfortingly. “And for now, get me an ice pack. The ice will help with the swelling.” You turned to the crew member, who hurried off to retrieve one. You looked back at Taehyung.
“Are you feeling okay? Is there anything else that hurts?” You asked, forcing a smile. He looked at you, still reeling from the news. “No, just my ankle. Thank you for helping me. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”
He looked down at his hands, then whispered, “I’m sorry…” You noticed a single tear track down his cheek, landing on his palm. You found yourself lost in his gaze, sensing his profound disappointment.
“Here you go,” a crew member said, handing you an ice pack. You quickly applied it to Taehyung’s ankle. He groaned, and you saw his pain deepen.
“It’s okay,” you said, trying to reassure him. “I’m going to tell the other members about the situation. Please take care of him until I come back.” Sejin nodded, and you heard him call out "Y/N!" before rushing off.
“You’re going to be fine. Don’t stress yourself too much,” you told Taehyung. “I ruined the concert for you and the fans and…” “No, you didn’t,” you interrupted him, firmly.
He lifted his head, making eye contact with you. “Trust me, you didn’t. And I’m sure ARMY will understand it wasn’t your fault.” You told him, and he looked at you with a soft expression that quickly turned into a smile.
“So…Y/N,” he said, tentatively starting a conversation. “Yes?” You looked up, and he froze. “Um, are you comfortable sitting on the floor like that?” He asked, concern etched on his face.
“Yeah, I’m fine—” You stopped talking as you felt his hand on yours. You looked down and saw his hands interlaced with yours. “Come sit here. The ground looks uncomfortable, and I can hold the ice pack myself.” He said. You felt your cheeks burn.
“No, it’s fine. This is my job, and I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable—” He interrupted you again. “No, I insist.” He patted the cushion next to him. “Okay, but I’ll hold the ice pack. You need to relax.” You ordered him, and he instantly complied.
He sighed in defeat before saying, “So, where are you from?” You looked at him, his eyes widening. “N-not that it matters, you don’t have to talk to me if you’re uncomfortable.”
You giggled, and he looked up at you, realizing how cute you looked. “It’s fine. I don’t mind talking with Kim Taehyung.” You looked at him and realized how focused he was, staring right at you, barely even blinking.
You blushed. “I’ve lived most of my life in the US, but I’m originally from the Middle East.” You said, trying to calm your racing heart. “So how long have you lived in Seoul?” He asked, his gaze intensifying, studying your every move. He wasn't interested in you because of who you were…
He was just "interested" in who you were…
You and Taehyung found yourselves talking for what felt like hours, laughing and joking, when suddenly Sejin interrupted you, taking Taehyung by the shoulder and ushering him away to perform the next song.
You bowed, and before you knew it, they were gone. You took a moment to let it sink in, thinking to yourself, I just helped Kim Taehyung. You felt elated and proud, relieved you hadn’t embarrassed yourself or made a fool of yourself. You’d been professional and, to your surprise, engaged in a genuine conversation with him.
You squealed with happiness before being interrupted again by Sejin. “Y/N, right?” He asked, and you nodded. “Thank you so much, and I’m sorry for—” You didn’t let him finish. “Don’t apologize. I totally get why you were stressed. I would have acted the same if I was in your shoes.” You reassured him.
“Here,” you said, handing him a business card. “Please contact me if his ankle flares up. And make sure he avoids putting any weight on it. Oh, and ice it after the concert.” He looked surprised by your initiative, then nodded, walking you out.
You returned to your seat, finding Nina still lost in her own world, screaming along to the music. You relaxed your body, realizing you hadn’t gone to the restroom yet. You sighed in defeat and decided to just hold it in.