"You look so glum, Y/n! Come on, aren't you excited?" Your friend nudges you gently, half serious half joking.
Your eyes widen. She noticed. Fuck. She noticed, she noticed, she noticed. That's fine. All you have to do is pretend everything's fine. Everything is fine. Nothing's going to happen. Right? Nothing will happen.
"Y/n? You feeling alright?" She's frowning now.
Hurry up. Calm down. You can't ruin this for her. "I'm...just a little nervous. It's such a big stadium..."
The girl nods sympathetically, smiling, only to turn around seconds later and begin singing along to the videos playing on the screen, just like all the other fans.
Just like all the other fans. You're nothing more than a fan. You'll never be more than a fan, never again. Honestly, you're not even a fan anymore. You've avoided watching any of their videos, blocked all their social media pages, and tried your best to forget about them- about him.
It was working too. You thought you'd finally won, finally got over it. Then your friend begged you to go to the concert with her, tears in her eyes. Who were you to refuse a friend?
So there you were, breath quickening at alarming rates as his voice enveloped the stadium, his stare capturing the gaze of all. If only they knew.
"J-Hope!" The crowd roared, taunting you.
J-Hope. The name he called himself these days, the mask he wore to cover up his true self- the twisted monster you had once loved.
'You're the reason I have hope in life, my hope' You used to tell him, on those nights when things got a little too overwhelming. When he used to care for you, be there for you- he was always there. Always.
His voice only seems to get louder, suffocating. It's all you can hear. It's too loud. Everything's too loud. Too fast. You can't- No. You have to stay, you promised.
Your hands drum against the seat you're perched on, leg tapping up and down in an increasingly vigorous rhythm. But the biggest sign is your eyes. Wide, shaky, flitting about the crowd- anywhere but him.
Before you have time to prepare, the crowd grows louder, cheering in delight as their idols appear.
The first songs go quickly, luckily. You don't think you could bare it any longer. But it doesn't get better. Things only get worse from then on. The group begins to talk, to their fans, their army.
You watch in fear as they turn their heads, staring up at the thousands of lights. Their light. It hits you like a brick, a painful, knived brick...what if he sees you? What if he notices you?
No. That's impossible. It has to. There are so many of them, there's no way he'd be able to pick just you out of the crowd like that. Right?
The seats you've got aren't bad. They're not right next to the stage, at least. But they're not good. Good would be at home, somewhere safe. You hope he doesn't see you.
The seven of them are still smiling as they begin the daunting walk down to the lower stage, the nearer stage. You can feel your heart thumping against your chest, ready to jump straight out and run so he can't take it again.
You watch with wide, fearful eyes, freezing up completely as you make eye contact with Yoongi. His own gorgeous eyes widen in return, eyebrows easing slightly before a frown settles on his face. You don't know what to do. Instead, you just shake your head rapidly, hoping he picks up on your message. You're hoping you've seen it right when he nods back at you, lips pulled tight, serious.
As they walk away, leaving your nightmare alone on the stage, you notice Yoongi leaning in to whisper to the other members. You hope he's warned them. You hope he's helping you. All you can do is hope.
