Jennie feels as if there are a lot more eyes on her than usual. When she and Yoongi are on stage running through a dry rehearsal, fans pack the seats like sardines in a can. She has a hard time not looking at them; she hasn’t seen a crowd this large for a rehearsal since Blackpink debuted.

On top of that, most of them seem to be girls. It doesn’t change much, but the rumble of the crowd is less of a rumble and more of a thrum, like a flock of birds delicately fluttering their wings as they wait for their prey to show a soft underbelly.

When the director is setting up for a second run through, Yoongi leans over and murmurs, “Nervous?”

Jennie’s instant reaction is annoyance, but Yoongi doesn’t look like he’s teasing her. His gaze, dark in the shadow that cuts across his face when he lowers his head to look at her, tracks her expression.

She shakes her head slightly, hyperaware of the mob staring at her from beyond his shoulder. Yoongi looks like he knows exactly what she’s thinking because his eyes narrow at her, unconvinced, but whatever he’s about to say next is cut off as the director calls for the music to start again.

Jennie is a professional though; she can handle this. If getting put through the YG wringer taught her anything, it’s that you can’t show the audience any fear—whether it’s your lazy shark of a CEO who holds your future in his stubby hands, or the mob of hungry eyes waiting for you to fall on your face.

She thinks she’s doing well at maintaining her cool front until the name-sign hanging around her neck breaks off and flies into the face of one of the back-up dancers who yelps and stumbles into another dancer. Like a domino effect, the entire left section of them go down, breaking formation.

Jennie is so mortified she can hardly perform properly after that, and the director, exasperated with Jennie’s continuous mistakes, calls off the rehearsal and tells them to come back when they’ve got their act together.

Their managers fly after the director in a flurry of corporate rage to either reschedule the rehearsal or force an apology. The audience of fans titters. Jennie stands in the middle of the chaos feeling lower than dirt until Yoongi gently grabs her by the arm and hustles her off the stage.

There are almost as many eyes backstage as there are in the front. The other idols must have seen the entire fiasco through the backstage TVs. Jennie lets her hair cover her face so she doesn’t have to see them watching her. 

Somehow they end up in the bathroom. Apparently, even Yoongi has better sense than to try to leave when the building is surrounded by waiting fans.

He props an arm against the sink counter and runs his other hand over his face. “What a show,” he says with an earnest sigh of exhaustion.

Jennie cringes. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, staring at the tiled floor so hard her eyes blur.

Yoongi jerks like he forgot she was there. “What?” To his credit he sounds honestly confused. “Hey, no, Jennie. Look at me.” Yoongi waits for Jennie’s wary glance up at him before saying, “I was talking about our managers, and the director—that —not you.”

“It was my fault,” Jennie says hollowly.

“Yeah, but everyone makes mistakes. The guy should’ve given you a break. That—” Yoongi cuts himself off with a violent look, and it should make Jennie glad that he’s getting angry in her defense, but somehow it just makes her feel worse, like she’s ruined everyone’s day.

“I kept making mistakes though. It wasn’t just once or twice, it was...,” Jennie trails off and glares at the floor, blinking furiously, willing her watery eyes not to spill over.

“Jennie, hey…,” Yoongi’s typically rough voice smooths out sweetly as he tries to calm her down. “You know how many mistakes I make on stage? Too many to count. I can never be assed to memorize all the routines right so I end up forgetting the moves. I wouldn’t be surprised if that director was just trying to get back at me through you.”

Jennie looks morosely up at him. “Really?”

Yoongi quirks his lips up. “Really. I think rappers are just doomed to be bad dancers.”

In the end, it’s the kindness that does it for Jennie. Her face crumples as the tears of shame and embarrassment finally overspill, and when Yoongi swears—a quiet , , —and hesitantly touches her head, Jennie folds into him immediately, desperate for a gentle touch and an excuse to hide her wet face.

Later on, she won’t remember much about this moment, overwhelmed as she is, and she’ll pound her head to better recall what happened. Some things however are unforgettable—like the firmness of Yoongi’s arms around her, the rough hoodie against her face and the drum of a heartbeat in her ear, pounding like a call for war.