Heartbeat // JK

36- Stage Left

The floor was still shaking.

Even back here — past the risers, past the wings, down the corridor behind the video wall — I could feel it. The weight of twenty thousand people screaming, stomping, singing like the show wasn't ending but starting all over again.

But I couldn't see it now.
Not since they'd moved me.

"New sightline protocol," someone had muttered in a headset right after Euphoria — half-excuse, half-command.

"Come with me, Miss Simon. Quick."

And I had gone.
No argument. No protest.

Just followed a runner down past the rigging cases, through a low-lit access hall that smelled like warm cables and floor tape — until we stopped near the greenroom corridor. Not crew. Not talent. Not audience.

Just out of the way.

A screen nearby showed the live feed, maybe five seconds delayed. I didn't look.

I couldn't.

Somewhere beyond the concrete and curtains, BTS was finishing the show. Their last encore song. The last firework cue. The last hit of the drum pad.

And I was here.

In the quiet.
Waiting.

"They're on final talk," someone said into a comm near the corner.

"Risers hold another thirty seconds. Then group exit, stage right."

The voice was calm. Professional.

But something in me tightened anyway.
Because I knew what that meant.

It meant they were bowing now. Thanking the fans. Saying goodbye.

And I wasn't watching.

Not because I didn't want to.
Because I couldn't.

That look during Euphoria was already too much.
Too long. Too real. Too exposed.

And even if no one said it directly, even if the crew only moved me with smiles and soft voices, I knew what they were doing.

They were protecting him.
And maybe me too.

A distant roar hit the corridor walls.
One last scream — loud enough to shake the dust off the air ducts.

That was it.
The ending.

I closed my eyes.
And saw it anyway.

Seven boys, sweat-soaked and grinning, lined up at the edge of a stage they'd just destroyed. Their hands clasped. Their voices cracked. The bow so deep it looked like a prayer.

And then — The show was over.

Footsteps echoed hard through the back hallway. First just a few — staff, headset clicks, comm calls. Then more. Faster. Louder.

They were coming off stage.
I took one slow step back.
And waited.

A second later — the first shape turned the corner.

Taehyung.

Hair damp. Shoulders loose. Eyes gleaming like he'd just run a marathon through heaven and back. He caught my gaze and his whole face lit up.

"There she is!" Taehyung bellowed — and took off at a sprint.

I barely had time to flinch.

His arms wrapped around me hard enough to lift my feet off the ground.