Chan's POV
The roar of the crowd never got old.
But tonight, something about it felt different.
Chan stood center stage, sweat already forming at his temples, mic tight in his grip, heart thundering under his open collar. The lights were blinding, the energy in the room wild, but still, his thoughts drifted elsewhere.
To you.
The second he walked out, that undercurrent of longing started again. It was always there lately, since Orlando, since your goodbye. But tonight, it tugged harder.
Like something was missing. Or maybe... like something was coming.
He glanced out over the endless sea of fans, light sticks pulsing like stars, chants filling the air with rhythm and devotion. But even with thousands of people screaming his name... he felt alone in a very specific way.
You weren't out there... Or so he thought.
They moved through the setlist like muscle memory. The choreo, the verses, the transitions. All of it flowed effortlessly, drilled into him through years of instinct.
But his heart? It was beating for something else tonight.
In every pause between songs, he caught himself looking. Searching.
He didn't know what he expected to see. Maybe someone wearing your perfume in the front row. Maybe a message from you waiting backstage. Maybe nothing at all.
But he felt it.
A shift in the air. Like something was close. Like you were watching.
"Are you okay?" Seungmin asked at one point, brushing shoulders with him between songs.
"Yeah," Chan panted, nodding. "Just... feels like something's about to happen."
Seungmin tilted his head but didn't press.
During a slower song, Chan stood still for a moment and looked up at the stars, trying to slow his breathing.
He remembered your last message before the show: "I hope today goes better than you even imagined. I'm thinking of you."
It had rattled him more than he admitted.
Because the moment he read it, the ache in his chest shifted—became something sweeter, more electric. He didn't know why, but it felt like the closest thing to a promise.
He sang the next chorus with his eyes closed.
He pictured your face. The way you looked at him with your whole heart. The warmth of your voice in the quiet hours. The way you touched him like he was both strong and soft.
He missed you with a force that almost knocked him over.
As the show neared its final stretch, Chan wiped his face with a towel, pacing the side of the stage while the others bantered with the crowd.
Felix passed by and gave him a subtle nudge.
"Last encore," he said with a grin. "Go finish strong, hyung."
Chan nodded, gripping his mic tighter.
The stage lights shifted to gold. The instrumental began. The boys lined up for their final bow.
Chan's eyes scanned the crowd one more time, still chasing something unnamed.
Still hoping.
Then he turned toward the wings. Just for a second. And in that second—
His breath caught.
There was someone standing just beyond the curtain. Black hoodie. Gold shimmer underneath. Hidden by shadows.
But something about the shape... the posture... the gravity of that moment—
His heart stumbled. His mouth opened slightly. He blinked.
No way. No... couldn't be—