Seohyun emerged from her dressing room and into the large communal waiting room that had been set up for the MC’s to rest and finish getting ready. “Unnie,” she called to her stylist distractedly, holding up the front of her dress so it wouldn’t yawn open. “Help me with the zipper?”

When no response came, she looked up in confusion, and then met Yonghwa’s eyes across the room. He’d been pacing anxiously, obviously, cue cards held tight in his hand. Now it dropped as he took her in, mouth parting slightly in awe at the sight of her in her bedazzled white siren-cut dress. “Wow,” he mouthed, before glancing around in search of her stylist.

Chiyeul was attempting to nap while getting his hair done. Makeup artists were getting set up. A seamstress was fixing Yonghwa’s dress jacket. Staff flitted around busily worrying over this or that. But no sign of her stylist. Seohyun shrugged as Yonghwa’s gaze returned to her, then she twisted her chest around infinitesimally, pointedly, in invitation.

He shrugged back in helpless acquiescence, then put down his cue cards on a free spot by the seamstress and came over.

They’d held their distance these past few days, but it really couldn’t be helped now. She needed to make sure the dress didn’t need last-minute alterations like Yonghwa’s jacket. Transport could damage garments, weight gained or lost could affect the fit, and so on. She’d had to use another pair of nylons, for example, because her nails had torn through the first pair in her haste to get ready.

She turned her back fully to him as he approached, and his fingers, made cool by the inadequate heating as well as nerves, made her shiver as he carefully slid the zipper tab up her spine. Finally, he reached the top of her dress.

Gooseflesh rose over her skin as she released her front, testing the fit. It didn’t droop.

“You cold?” he asked quietly, securing the little hook that would ensure her zipper would stay in place.

Seohyun turned, and he stepped back to a respectable distance, ever conscious of just what type of interaction he was meant to keep with her. He certainly wasn’t supposed to notice said gooseflesh. He also wasn’t supposed to be able to place the subtle perfume she wore. Or feel that her hair was feather-soft.

“Your fingers,” she replied softly.

“Oh.” He stared lamely at his hands, a wry smile stretching his lips as he rubbed them together. “Sorry. Nerves.”

Offering a tight smile, she nodded in acknowledgment. “You’ll do fine.” Wishing she could do or say more, she instead bowed and then moved to the clothing rack to slide on the sheer shawl her stylist had picked out for her last week during her first fitting. It provided no warmth whatsoever.

Her stylist unnie chose that moment to appear, shoebox in hand. “I’m so sorry, Seohyun-ssi. Your shoes were with Taeyeon-ssi’s things. I ran all over, trying to find them.”

“Ah, it’s quite all right, unnie.”

The rest of the pre-show preparations became a blur