I scan the crowd for the umpteenth time, letting my eyes linger on the empty chair where I know she was supposed to sit. The other members open their mouths to tease me, but my quick glare reminds them that they are doing the same. My hands feel unsually sweaty, more than when I had done my first performance, when I had first asked her out, when I had first stepped into my new world. 

I my lips nervously and looking at another member, he mirrors my action to reassure me. 

That I'm not alone.

I give an almost unnoticeable nod and my eyes go over the crowd again. I glance at the clock to find that there's 10 minutes before our concert begins, but she's still not here. 

She'll be here.

His reassurance does little to calm my nerves, but I pull my lips into a hesitant smile to let him know that I appreciated his gesture. Our manager walks in with a familiar face. In unison, we stand up and greet him.

Ah! Ahnyeonghasaeyo Andy! 

He laughs it off, carefree as always before looking straight at me. His serious face lets me know exactly what he's thinking about.

Do you love her?

The most.

The answer comes without pause or hesitation because I know it's the truth. His eyes search mine before he breaks into smiles again as if he hadn't asked such a question. He winks at me and mutters something in my ear before leaving with encouragement to the group and another knowing look at me. 

What'd he say?

The most aegyo-prone--and the one who was able to see her--asks, his eyes wide and curious.

Nothing important. 

I answer as if nothing was really important, but to be honest, his advice had shocked me the most. I give an amused snicker, drawing attention to myself, but I ignore them. (He's crazy. Who tells someone 'stay hidden' when they know that their next concert will be all over the news?)

I laugh again before smiling regretfully. He really was the best. Why couldn't I trust him earlier?

Before long, the concert starts and my smile almost slips off when I see her still-empty seat. I throw a quick glance at my other group members to find that they had successfully kept up their smiles too. We stick our head furiously into the concert to not mess up and to keep our minds off of her absence. 

We introduce ourselves and interact with the audience. We perform a few of our older songs to get the crowd moving and continue onto special stages. Several songs, dances, and raps later, we join each other all back on stage, all in different outfits that still somehow matched, the result of our one-of-a-kind performances and our stylists' genius. We sing our newer songs and we end with a remix of "Crazy," hearing the fans go wild whenever we sing the chorus. Then, my eyes catch on something. 

And my heart nearly stops in joy.

She's there.

She's here.

The minute the song ends, I announce to the crowd that I had news for them. I can hear the whispers and the gossip, but I don't pay any mind as I stop in front of her, my hand out. I look at her, boring my eyes into hers and searching her face. Hesitantly, she takes my hand and I pull her up. Smiling brightly, I wrap one arm around her small frame and shout into the mic.

This is the girl I love!

Immediately, I pull her closer when I can almost feel her knees lose their strength and I can hear the rest of my group come up to me, congratulating me as they did crowd control with reassurances that they were still up on the market. I pull the mic away from my face and look at her, memorizing her features while elation filled me. 

Miss me? 

...All the time. 

Her shy answer made me feel so guilty even though I had no idea why she was mad in the first place.

Then never leave again.

I say this with conviction and seeing the agreeing look on her face, I swoop in and brush my lips against hers, smirking when I hear all the fans cry out in despair and jealousy. I laugh when we pull apart, seeing the almost-possessive pout painting her face. I pull the mic back up to my face.

Sorry girls! This is the one for me. 

I kiss her again, muffling her embarrassed protests as someone takes my mic and scolds me on stage. I stick my tongue out at the member and gladly drag my girl backstage, the other members following with teasing and, of course, complaints that they were hungry. 

I can hear her giggle at their eagerness and seeing the happy tears on her face, I decide to change that and I kiss her again and again, ignoring quite a number of complaints from my group members as she only laughed.