32

                                    

                                          
She licked her lips. They were too dry, dry as a desert.
Neve sat slouched in one of the seats in the vast concert hall, holding a clipboard that felt like it weighed a ton. Her head was still slightly foggy from the events of the previous night, and no amount of coffee could make her forget the cold shower — and Joshua — situation. Joshua. Every time she thought about it, her brain short-circuited for a second. How was she supposed to survive today without turning into a walking tomato?
"Okay, so once the fan chants start, make sure the spotlight hits center stage. You see where I marked it on the sheet of paper?" Park Donghae, ever the relaxed and unbothered professional, was talking her through the final touches of the lighting setup, pointing at her clipboard as if her mind wasn't somewhere else entirely.
"Uh-huh," she nodded, pushing her glasses back up her nose with one hand. Her other hand clutched the pen like a lifeline. She wore her usual black hoodie and jeans today — trying to blend into the background as much as possible, like a shadow. Her brown hair was pulled into two neat braids, though a few strands were already escaping to frame her face in an unruly mess.
Donghae, as always, looked like he'd just rolled out of a 90s rock concert in his worn Metallica T-shirt. He barely looked at her, focused instead on gesturing toward the stage. "You'll have control over the panel in the lighting room upstairs. And don't forget the cues for the fan interactions. We want to make sure the lights move with the energy of the room. It's all about the vibe."
"The vibe," Neve echoed blankly, scribbling something onto the clipboard that looked more like a doodle of her drowning in a pool of embarrassment than actual notes. She was really trying to focus, but Joshua kept popping into her brain like an unwelcome guest.
But the lightning guy didn't seem to notice her mental derailment. "Also, don't forget the red spotlight for Woozi during his solo part. He likes it to feel dramatic." He looked over at her, his eyebrows raised. "You got that?"
"Yep," she said, giving him a thumbs-up, though inside, she was replaying the scene in the bathroom over and over again. Why couldn't I have passed out before all that?
The concert hall was already starting to fill with a quiet buzz as staff members moved around, adjusting last-minute details. The stage was massive, fitting for a fan meeting that could only be described as a mini-concert in itself. Giant screens flanked either side of the stage, and the sound of faint mic checks echoed from backstage, where Seventeen was presumably getting ready.
Neve tried to shake off the feeling of nerves, not just from the responsibility of the lighting but from the knowledge that Joshua — Joshuaaahhh — would be there, performing, and she'd have to work without spontaneously combusting from the memory of him drenched and catching her in that shower.
Donghae's voice snapped her back to the present. "And don't worry about the pyrotechnics; that's someone else's job. You just focus on lighting and the colour themes. Remember, stay in the control room unless something goes horribly wrong."
"Got it," she muttered. Honestly, she was glad to be tucked away in the control room, far away from the chaos of backstage and any further embarrassing run-ins with certain band members.
She glanced down at herself, pulling at the hem of her hoodie. Black, black, black — her go-to color for every situation, but mostly for days like this when she wanted to fade into the background and avoid the spotlight. Not that she had much choice; working behind the scenes had always been her thing, but today felt different. The weight of her hangover, the impending fan meeting, and her unfortunate encounters with Joshua all mixed into a cocktail of stress and awkwardness.