[REN]
"Who won?" Ren asked, panting as he yanked at the collar of his stage outfit.
They had barely stepped offstage, sweat still dripping down their necks, lights still blazing behind the curtains.
Staff swarmed around them — makeup retouches, mic swaps, wardrobe checks. There wasn't much time to breathe, let alone talk.
Everette blinked at him. "Eh? Seriously? You're going to ask me that in the middle of your concert?"
Ren's tone hadn't wavered. Calm, low, but edged with urgency. "Who won the writing contest this month?"
Everette almost dropped her water bottle. Of all the people to bring this up — Ren? The quiet, stoic one? The guy who barely blinked when fans screamed his name? The same man who treated distractions like dust on his drums?
She narrowed her eyes. "You, of all people, are asking me this now? On this stage? When we're literally—" She pointed to the crew counting down at the wings. "—two minutes from going back out?"
