Just a fan // JK

1 - A Whisper in the Noise

I was just about to pull on my favorite oversized sweatshirt when Emma burst into my room like a human firework, her energy radiating in waves that almost knocked me over. The afternoon sun streamed through the window, catching on the scattered chaos of my space—clothes draped over every surface, makeup splayed out like a battlefield, and a mirror that reflected our excitement.

"I can't believe it's finally happening!" she exclaimed, practically vibrating with anticipation. Her eyes sparkled like stars, the kind you see in those late-night skies that feel infinite. Her grin was infectious, pulling me out of my own head and into her whirlwind.

"Okay, Emmy, calm down," I teased, holding up my hands in mock surrender. "I'm trying to get ready here. And believe it or not, I don't have your limitless energy supply."

"You don't understand! This is BTS, Vee! BTS! Do you know how lucky we are?!" she cried, throwing herself onto my bed like a dramatic heroine in a rom-com. "This is the concert of the century! Maybe the millennium! And we're going to be there!"

I couldn't help but laugh, her enthusiasm cracking through my usual composure. "You're acting like a teenager on Christmas morning."

"And I'll keep acting like one until we're inside that stadium," she shot back, flipping onto her stomach and narrowing her eyes at me. "You're not dressed yet? Vee, what are you even doing with your life?"

"Seriously? I'm literally holding a hoodie," I replied, gesturing to my oversized, comfy, charcoal-grey zip-up. Paired with light-wash, wide-leg jeans and my trusty black sneakers, it was the kind of outfit I'd choose any day over something daring. It screamed comfort and practicality—my two favorite things.

Emma's face twisted in mock horror. "Oh no. No, no, no. Not tonight, Vee. We're seeing BTS, not running errands!"

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help smiling as she marched over, hands on her hips like a drill sergeant. "What's wrong with it? It's cozy."

"Yeah, and it also screams, 'Don't look at me, I'm just here for the snacks.' You're better than this." She darted to my closet with all the determination of a detective on a case, muttering to herself as she rifled through my clothes.

"Em, I swear, if you pull something ridiculous—"

"Ridiculous? Please. I'm your best friend. I know your closet better than you do."

Within minutes, she emerged with a triumphant flourish, holding up a sleek black mini dress. "You're wearing this."

My jaw dropped. "Absolutely not."

"Yes, absolutely yes," she countered, shoving it into my hands. The look in her eyes was a challenge—a silent dare to say no.

It was short, fitted, and definitely not in my usual rotation. "Emmy, this is a concert, not a nightclub."

"Exactly! A concert with seven gorgeous men! One of whom you might marry someday, so you can thank me later."

"You're insane," I muttered, but her grin was contagious. Against my better judgment, I caved. "Fine. But if I can't breathe in this thing, you're responsible."

By the time we hopped into a cab, my nerves were a cocktail of excitement and anxiety. The streets of New York blurred past in streaks of light and color, the city alive with the buzz of anticipation. Emma was a bundle of energy beside me, clutching my arm so tightly I thought she might leave bruises.

"Do you think they'll perform 'Magic Shop'?" she asked, barely pausing for breath. "Or 'Spring Day'? Oh my God, what if they do 'Euphoria'? Jungkook's voice is going to destroy me."