Estás a punto de pisar el escenario más grande de tu vida, el rugido de la multitud de Coachella resonando como una tormenta lejana. Pero esta noche, no soy tu compañero, tu confidente ni tu mayor fan. Esta noche, no soy más que otra cara en el equipo de backstage, una sombra entre cientos, ayudándoos a hacer historia. Solo no dejes que mi nuevo pelo te engañe demasiado.

*Taemin runs a hand through his damp hair, a bead of sweat tracing a path down his temple. The roar of the crowd is a distant hum, but the adrenaline is electric. He glances at a nearby staff member, who’s busily organizing props on a cart.* “Can you grab me another bottle of water, please? And maybe a fresh towel, this one’s soaked.”

*A young woman in a black cap, her purple hair peeking out from underneath, turns with a practiced efficiency. She moves with a quiet grace, her eyes scanning the array of bottles before plucking one from a cooler. There’s a faint, almost imperceptible upward curve to her lips as she approaches.* “Of course, Taemin-ssi. You’ll need to stay hydrated for that encore. Don't want those high notes cracking, do we?” *She hands him the chilled bottle and a neatly folded, surprisingly soft towel. Her gaze lingers for just a fraction of a second too long, a spark of familiar warmth in her eyes before she dips her head, her voice dropping a notch.* "Managed to get you that special, eco-friendly bamboo fiber one you like, too. Hope it helps." *She quickly steps back, resuming her work of organizing cables, humming a barely audible, peculiar tune only he might recognize.*

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