You're at a Chappell Roan concert, heart already thrumming from the energy in the room. Chappell's voice wraps around you, the crowd sways, and it's all too much—the heat, the lights, the crushing press of people. You barely register her belting out the chorus of "Pink Pony Club" before your vision blurs. One second you're there, and the next... darkness.
When you come to, you're horizontal, staring up at a face that's absurdly close. Big, worried eyes meet yours, framed by sparkly eyeliner. It takes a moment for the pieces to fit together: Chappell Roan herself is crouched over you.
"Okay, Sleeping Beauty, you back with us?" she says, the corner of her mouth quirking up despite the concern in her eyes.
You blink, trying to sit up, but a hand on your shoulder stops you. "Whoa, whoa. Don't rush it, champ. You took a nosedive mid-song. Impressive timing, though—it was right on the beat drop. Almost poetic."
The absurdity of it all hits you like a freight train. "Did I... Did I just faint at your concert?"
Her laugh is warm, low. "You sure did. Very dramatic. I might write a song about it."
You groan, covering your face with your hands. "This is mortifying."
"It's memorable, I'll give you that." Her grin is teasing, but there's a softness behind it. "You feeling okay now? No head injuries? No pre-existing conditions I should know about?"
"Just a tendency to embarrass myself in front of my favourite artists," you mumble.
She raises an eyebrow. "Favourite, huh? Guess I've got some competition for number one fan."
You finally manage to sit up, and Chappell helps steady you. The crowd has shifted away, giving you space, and security lingers nearby. "I think I'm good," you say. "Thanks for... well, this."
"Hey, least I could do. You gave me a show. Also, full disclosure: I'm pretty sure someone got it on video."
Your eyes widen in horror. "No."
"Oh, yes. It's probably already trending. #Y/NFaintsForChappell."
You bury your face in your hands again, but Chappell gently pulls them away. "Hey, don't worry about it. I'm not going to let you live it down, but... in a nice way."
"You're enjoying this way too much."
"Guilty," she says, smiling. "But seriously, let me grab you some water or something. And maybe a snack? Fainting usually requires a dramatic recovery arc."
"I think I just need to crawl into a hole."
"Nope, not on my watch." She stands and holds out a hand. "C'mon. Let's get you backstage. Safer there. Also, I need to know what kind of person faints at a concert and still manages to look cute doing it."
You blink at her. "Are you... flirting with me?"
Her smirk widens. "You tell me."
And with that, she helps you to your feet, steadying you as the world tilts just slightly. You follow her backstage, heart pounding, wondering if you just hallucinated the entire thing—or if Chappell Roan really is looking at you like you're the star of the show.
Backstage is quieter, though the muffled thrum of the concert still pulses through the walls. Chappell guides you to a couch with surprising gentleness, a far cry from the confident, electric presence she had on stage. A crew member hands her a bottle of water, which she passes to you with a dramatic flourish.
"For you, m'lady," she says, bowing slightly. "Only the finest lukewarm concert water."
You take it, rolling your eyes but unable to stop the laugh that escapes. "Wow, what service."
"I do what I can." She plops down beside you, close enough that your shoulders brush. "Now, let's talk. What happened out there? Was it the heat? Lack of food? My sheer, overwhelming talent?"
You choke on the sip of water you just took. "Definitely not the last one."
"Ouch." She clutches her chest as if you've mortally wounded her. "Way to crush my ego. I'll be writing a breakup ballad about this later."
You smile despite yourself. "It was probably the heat and the crowd. And maybe I forgot to eat before I got here."
She gasps, scandalised. "A rookie mistake! Don't you know concert rule number one? Always eat something before you pack yourself into a sweaty crowd."
"Well, clearly I'm not a professional concertgoer," you say, leaning back into the couch.
Chappell studies you for a moment, her head tilted slightly, like she's trying to figure you out. "You're not gonna make a habit of fainting at my shows, are you? Because I'll have to start carrying smelling salts in my merch bag."
"I promise, this is a one-time thing."
"Good," she says, but then her gaze softens. "Seriously, though. You're okay? No dizziness? No sudden urge to reenact your fainting performance?"
You shake your head. "I'm fine. Embarrassed, but fine."
"Don't be embarrassed. If anything, you've made tonight way more interesting. And for what it's worth..." She pauses, as if debating whether to say what's on her mind. "You fainted gracefully. Like, I've seen people wipe out on stage, and it's never pretty. But you? Ten out of ten. You even had a little arm swoop."
You groan, hiding your face in your hands again. "Stop."
"Never." She bumps your shoulder with hers, her voice teasing. "This is prime banter material."
There's a knock at the door, and one of her crew pokes their head in. "You good back here? We've got five minutes until the next set."
Chappell looks at you, then back at the crew member. "Yeah, I'm good. Thanks." The door closes, and she turns back to you. "So. What's the plan? You want to stick around back here for the rest of the show? Or are you feeling brave enough to rejoin the crowd?"
You hesitate. "I don't want to ruin your night..."
"Ruin my night?" She laughs. "Please. This is the most fun I've had all week."
"Fun?" you repeat, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah. I mean, how often do I get to play nurse-slash-stand-up-comedian for someone who faints at my feet? It's kind of iconic."
You roll your eyes, but there's no real annoyance behind it. "I guess I could stay back here for a bit. Just until I feel steady."
"Good call," she says, standing and grabbing another bottle of water from a mini fridge. "But only if you promise to eat something after the show. Deal?"
"Deal."
She hands you the water and flashes you a grin. "Cool. And hey, maybe I'll dedicate the next song to you. Something dramatic. Like, 'Picture You.' Or 'Guilty Pleasure.'"
"You're ridiculous."
"And you're stuck with me for the next ten minutes, so get used to it."
As she heads toward the door to rejoin the stage, she pauses and looks back at you. "By the way, I wasn't kidding earlier. You do look cute when you're embarrassed."
And with that, she's gone, leaving you alone in the quiet backstage room, your heart pounding for an entirely different reason now.
—————
a/n
HAPPY NEW YEARS MOFOS
LOVE YOU ALL
