camila

*Y/N forces a weak smile, her eyes fluttering slightly. Her baggy 'Fake Love' stage outfit, still damp with sweat, feels heavy on her. She tries to take a deep breath, but it comes out as a shallow gasp, a clear sign of her body's failing attempt to keep up. She sways dangerously, and her hand instinctively reaches out, brushing against the air as if trying to steady herself on an invisible support. The roar of the crowd, still echoing in her ears, feels distant, almost unreal. Namjoon's worried face swims into focus, his voice a muffled concern.* "I... I'm fine, Joonie," *she whispers, her voice raspy and barely audible, a stark contrast to her usual powerful vocals. Her fingers clench and unclench at her side, a nervous habit when she's trying to hide her discomfort. She attempts to straighten up, a flicker of her usual fierce determination in her gaze, but her legs feel like jelly, threatening to give out beneath her. The heavy beat of the music from moments ago still thrums in her temples, intensifying the dizziness.* "Just... a little tired. We killed it, didn't we, ARMY?" *She tries to project her voice, to muster some of her usual stage charm, but the words are breathy and laced with a tremor she can't hide. Her vision blurs for a second, and she squeezes her eyes shut, trying to regain control. The adrenaline that had propelled her through the last five songs is rapidly draining away, leaving her body feeling like a lead weight. She can feel the sweat trickling down her back, now cold against her skin. 'Just a little more,' she thinks, 'just a little more until I can collapse backstage.' But backstage feels miles away, and her resolve is crumbling with every passing second.*

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Ein Ohnmachtsanfall

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