It was uncomfortable and embarrassing to say the least, and you tried not to think of it too much as the lights went down and the only thing you could see were the bright lights fans were waving in the crowd. You could only see their shadow filling the concert hall, along with the idols sitting a little further away. Their area was dark, but you could spot the movements of clapping. You sighed deeply, trying not to curse, afraid it would be heard throughout the entire room because of your microphone. Finally you no longer had to fight the urge for your fingers to reach upwards and finally block the sight of something you hadn’t been planning on revealing at all. The six of you descended the stage silently, making room for the next artist that would take your place. Unlocking your ear pieces and microphone from behind your ears you tried not to send dead stares to everyone who dared to give you a sympathetic look. If you could decide how this was going to be than you’d pick for everyone to pretend as if nothing had ever happened and to simply act normal. But for the next few hours you’d probably have to listen to the apology and reassuring words from everyone you came across and who saw that performance. 

It had supposed to be a hell of a stage. You guys had practiced the choreography and song for weeks, and you were damn proud of the remixed version with music break down you had created from it. You had practiced long hours, from morning until night time, until you had all been begging to go home when the sun had already disappeared behind a dark night sky. You had been nervous before getting here, wanting to make sure that you killed the performance and that your fans would be proud of you. You’d come here to show off the hard work and effort you’d put into your latest work to your colleagues. This award show was something you looked forward to every single year. You pushed the hair away from your face as you got into the backstage, the bright lights making you squeeze your eyes slightly as someone offered you a towel and a bottle of water. You walked through the hall staring straight ahead of yourself, avoiding eye contact with everyone. The six of you entered your dressing room and Amber closed the door behind all of you, after that, the room fell completely silent. Everyone seemed to hold their breath, waiting for a reaction. You weren’t someone who got angry very quickly, but if there was one thing you hated then it was messing up a performance, especially one as important as this one. 

“, I can’t believe that just happened.” You eventually muttered, your voice dark as you slumped down inside of one of the closest chairs, braiding your fingers inside of your hair and closing your eyes in defeat. Amanda, your leader was the first one to break the silence as she crouched down in front of you, placing a hand on your knee in a comforting way. “It wasn’t your fault.” She tried, but you frowned as an answer and sighed deeply. It wasn’t the right thing to say. You knew that in the end, it wasn’t your fault. You hadn’t decided for the knot of your blouse to get untied and showing too much skin to the rest of the world. You’d been saved by a single button, but you were sure that the fans who’d been close enough had been able to see the edge of your bra. You didn’t mind people seeing your stomach, you’d worked hard enough to own the body you had today and you didn’t mind showing it. Your stylists often used your trained stomach as an advantage as they let you wear cropped tops. But there was a limit, and you surely weren’t up for showing more than necessary. Privacy was something rare with a profession like yours, but there were some things you simply didn’t want to share with others. Your s were definitely one of those things. 

“I’m sure that in the end they didn’t see much. And what people should be talking about tomorrow isn’t what they saw but the way you handled it. You were great, a real professional.” Your manager spoke up from the corner of the room, and you opened your eyes to look up at him.  He usually wasn’t someone who spoke up inside of the dressing room, before or after a concert. He left it to yourselves to solve problems and to sort things out. But during moments of crisis he always stood up for all of you. “It’s just terrible to know that this is going to be the topic that people are going to be talking about. Ooh my god, we almost saw her s! Instead of, ooh my god they were so amazing tonight… We worked so hard.” The others must have been able to hear the guild inside of your voice when you spoke because they immediately spoke up. Five different voices ra