Featuring You ▷II YEJISU

25

Backstage was a whirlwind of chaos.

Staff members darted back and forth, they let the room engulf in the deafening sound of headsets crackling as they shouted instructions and rushed to get everything in place. Lights flickered, equipment clattered, and the loud chants of the crowd beyond the curtain seeped through the walls. Jisu stands in the middle of it all, frozen. Her world is slowing to a crawl while everything around her moved at a frantic pace.

Her nerves are starting to overwhelm her. Anxiety rises like a wave, threatening to spill over. It crawled up her throat, desperate to escape, leaving her struggling to keep it in check.

Her hands tremble, slick with sweat as her fingers twist together in a frantic rhythm. She rubs at the skin, feeling it grow raw and tender under the pressure. Her fingertips reddens with each tug.

It's too hot. Her outfit feels suffocating and her chest unbearably tight. Or maybe it's too cold? Her legs have gone numb—icy as if she'd plunged them into freezing water.

So inevitably, doubt crept in: Maybe this wasn't a good idea after all, maybe she wasn't ready for it at all.

On top of the stage, the performance, and all its expectations weighing on her, the fight with Yuna also troubled her. A weird new habit of ignoring each other grew between them and no matter the excuse, there was no denying that Jisu hated it.

She forces a smile at the passing staff, her breath ragged and shallow. Her nails tap against the microphone taped to her cheek, then also on the handheld microphone she held. Her knuckles turn white from her grip. She blinks furiously, willing away the tears that threaten to fall, struggling to steady herself.

Although the tears never actually came, Jisu's vision blurred. Oh, no.

"Jisu? Hey, Bae," a familiar voice called out, though it seemed to come from both near and far. She couldn't tell which.

"Jisu? Please, breathe."

Breathe. Yes, she should. She needed to. But she couldn't.

"Slow down. Breathe with me. Come on, in and out."

Jisu's eyes were squeezed shut, but the sound of someone else breathing beside her—slow and steady—made her try. She mimics them, her breath gradually falling into sync.

Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.

Her shoulders began to relax, the tremors fading. Slowly, she sets the microphone down on the table, wiping her clammy hands on her bare legs. With a deep breath, she opens her eyes. Brown ones met hers—warm, familiar, and grounding.

"I know you're mad at me, Jisu," Yuna's voice is soft, laced with regret. She shifts on her feet awkwardly, and rubs her hands. "And... I know our fight didn't help with everything you're going through. I can tell it's eating at you, and trust me it's also eating at me too. I hate that I made things harder for you." It takes Jisu a moment to register what she was saying.

Mad? Was she? Jisu blinks, trying to grasp the lingering anger, but right at this instant, it felt distant, partly faded by her exhaustion.

"But I want you to know," Yuna continued, her tone steady but earnest, "I'm so proud of you. And you're going to crush it up there."

Yuna's smile—bright, genuine—was infectious. It tugged at Jisu, pulling one from her too. "And I'll be cheering for you from the sidelines. Always and forever. Nothing's going to change that, ever. Okay?"

"Okay." The word slips out, but it felt right.

Yuna wraps her arms around Jisu's neck, pulling her close. The embrace is gentle, careful, but full of warmth. Jisu melts into it, realizing how much she'd missed it. It had been days since they'd hugged. She'd forgotten how grounding it could be.