Chapter Text
Today was the fifth show in a row—and the last before their grand tour in two weeks.
And Zoey was buzzing.
No, she was electric.
Her whole body thrummed as if the music hadn’t stopped, as if it had settled under her skin. The lights, the crowd, the deafening roar—it all surged through her, feeding something wild and relentless. Her smile burned brighter than the stars, brighter than the moon itself.
She felt unstoppable.
But every night, of course, has to end.
She waved enthusiastically to every fan she could reach, moving from one side of the stage to the other, barely able to stay still while Rumi shouted their goodbyes.
Mira thanked the audience, steady and composed as always.
People were chanting their names.
Zoey couldn’t stop moving—if it were allowed, she would have already jumped in between the fans.
But Bobby had scolded her last time, something about safety and such. She didn’t remember the whole conversation, but he’d used his scary voice.
So no, sadly, she couldn’t go into the sea of fans.
Suddenly, she came to a halt, mischief in her eyes. She giggled and turned her face sideways, making eye contact with Rumi.
Rumi barely had time to react before Zoey spun back to the crowd.
“What about one more song?!”
Her voice rang out, bright and reckless.
She shot a toothy grin at the others, who were already groaning without making a sound.
The crowd, of course, reacted instantly, cheers rising louder and wilder.
Zoey used her ultimate move.
She clapped her hands together and pleaded, “Pleasssse, for the fans,” her eyes shining with the shimmer of the stars.
Mira took a small step back, hesitating. Because what the fans didn’t see was the faint tremble in Zoey’s hand, the thin sheen of sweat clinging to her forehead, the few steps she missed—just slightly—during their final choreography.
Rumi had seen it too. They both had.
Zoey pouted, her lip jutting out in an exaggerated, almost childish way. She was the maknae for a reason.
“Aah, pretty pleaaaaase...”
Rumi and Mira exchanged a glance, a silent conversation.
Then Mira moved her hand subtly at her side, small controlled gestures hidden from the audience.
You sure?
Zoey nodded immediately, already jumping in place, like a kid with yellow rain boots in a puddle.
Rumi hesitated for a fraction of a second… then sighed.
“Alright,” she said into her mic, a smile slipping back into place. “One more, for the fans.”
The crowd roared.
xx
By the time they stepped off the stage, the noise still clinging to the air behind them, Zoey let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. It slipped out of her in a long exhale, like something inside her finally loosened.
She bent forward, hands braced on her knees, her fingers pressing into the damp fabric of her stage outfit. Her palms were warm. Slightly slick. Her hands trembled, just enough for her to notice it.
“What a night…” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.
She pushed herself upright again, rolling her shoulders back, stretching until something in her spine gave a soft, satisfying pop. For a second, it felt good. Light. Easy.
Then it was gone.
Ahead of her, Rumi and Mira were already moving, their footsteps steady and unhurried as they headed toward the narrow backstage stairs. The hallway felt different from the stage—smaller, dimmer, the bright lights replaced by long strips of white that buzzed faintly overhead. The walls were plain, slightly scuffed, painted in a dull off-white that reflected just enough light to feel harsh instead of soft.
Zoey followed them, her hand brushing briefly against the wall as she walked. It felt cool under her fingertips. Solid. Grounding.
But the buzz inside her didn’t fade.
It stayed.
It hummed beneath her skin, restless, alive—like the show hadn’t ended, like the energy had nowhere to go and was just… building.
She let it carry her forward. It felt good. It felt like she was still out there.
Still shining.
Rumi and Mira were talking quietly ahead of her, their voices low and even, blending into the background noise. Zoey didn’t really hear the words. Her thoughts had already drifted somewhere else.
Tonight.
She still had to stream.
The thought settled in her mind, steady and certain. Like a promise she’d already made.
The past three nights had been the same: late streams, barely any sleep, alarms dragging her back up after only a few hours. Her body had complained. Aching muscles, heavy limbs, a dull pressure behind her eyes.
She’d ignored it. The fans were waiting. And Happy fans is Happy Honmoon.
And tonight…
Tonight she’d promised someone. One message in the endless flood of chat that had stuck with her.
You’ll be there again tomorrow, right?
She had smiled. Said yes.
Of course she had.
Who was she to disappoint?
Her steps slowed slightly. Rumi and Mira had stopped. They were looking at her now.
Zoey blinked, pulling herself back, realizing she’d missed whatever they’d just said.
“Really, Zoey? One more song?” Mira said, her tone light but edged with something just a little more serious underneath.
Zoey smiled easily, almost automatically. “Well… the fans really wanted it, so…”
Her voice sounded bright. Normal.
Rumi rolled her eyes. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
Zoey laughed softly, the sound a little thinner than usual, and they turned again toward the stairs.
Zoey stepped after them and the world went black.
Not dim. Not blurry.
Black.
Her foot stalled mid-step. Her breath caught.
Then, just as suddenly, everything came rushing back—the hallway, the lights, the faint echo of voices.
She blinked hard, her lashes sticking together for a second.
“What…?” she whispered under her breath, lifting a hand to rub at her temple.
The skin there felt warm. Too warm. Maybe she should end the stream early tonight. Just this once. She shook her hand for a moment.
The thought came—and passed just as quickly.
Her legs felt heavy now as she walked forward again. Not just tired, bu weighted. Each step pressed harder into the ground, like the floor was pulling her down instead of holding her up. Her shoes felt wrong, too tight, too solid, like they were filled with something dense.
Not now.
Her jaw tightened slightly.
Please, not now.
“Zoey?”
Mira’s voice cut through the haze.
Zoey looked up, realizing she’d fallen behind again. Mira stood halfway down the stairs, one hand curled around the railing, her body angled toward her.
Zoey forced herself forward, jogging the last few steps. The impact of each step traveled too sharply up her legs, her muscles protesting with a dull, heavy ache.
“Yes?”
“We’re doing a movie night,” Mira said. “To celebrate. You in?”
For a moment—just a moment—Zoey hesitated.
The idea settled over her like something warm. Sitting down. Quiet. Rest.
Her body leaned toward it before she could stop herself.
“I’d love to,” she said instead, stepping onto the stairs past the other two. Her hand slid along the railing, fingers curling around the cool metal. “But I can’t.”
The metal felt solid under her grip. Too solid. Like she needed it more than she should.
“I have another stream tonight.”
The words came out steady, even as her head began to feel… light.
Not dizzy. Not spinning.
Just… untethered.
The stairs tilted slightly beneath her feet.
She swayed.
“Zoey?”
A hand closed around her arm. Warm. Firm. Fingers pressing just enough to steady her.
Rumi.
“You alright?”
“I’m fine,” Zoey said quickly, too quickly, pulling her arm free with a small, dismissive laugh. “I’ll be fine once these shoes are off.”
Mira’s gaze lingered on her, sharp and quiet, like she was trying to read something Zoey wasn’t saying out loud.
“You’ve been streaming three nights in a row,” she said.
Zoey shrugged and continued down the stairs. One step, then another. Careful now. Slower. Her hand slid along the railing, metal cool under her fingertips, steadying in a way her body was not.
They were almost at the bottom.
Voices drifted up from below, crew members talking over each other, laughter bouncing off the walls, and Bobby’s familiar voice cutting through it all, bright and unaware.
Zoey tightened her grip on the railing, her knuckles pale against the metal.
“I promised a fan,” she added, softer this time. Like that explained it. Like that made it enough.
Before either of them could respond, she pushed forward, skipping the last few steps with a practiced bounce. The motion was automatic, her body switching into stage mode without her thinking about it, like muscle memory taking over where awareness had faded.
Her feet hit the ground and everything changed.
The shift was instant. Wrong.
A sudden heaviness pressed into her body, not like tiredness but like something had been added to her bones.
Her knees softened before she even understood why.
The room tilted sideways, slow at first, then sharper, the white lights stretching and smearing as if the hallway itself had lost focus. The walls, plain and pale, seemed to lean in too close, watching.
Her breath caught.
Her balance was gone.
A sound echoed somewhere, sharp and distant, maybe her name, maybe just the world reacting too late.
The air felt thick in her lungs, like it had turned heavy, resisting every inhale and exhale.
Everything slowed, as if she had stepped out of time and the world had forgotten to follow her.
Her body still buzzed, but now it had turned against her, a constant vibration under her skin that felt too loud, too much, like static trapped inside her muscles.
Then arms caught her.
Firm. Immediate.
Hands at her waist, fingers pressing in just enough to hold her in place, anchoring her before she could fall fully. She felt the pull backward into warmth, into something steady. The faint scent of rose drifted in, softened by cinnamon, grounding and familiar.
Mira.
“Hey, hey, I’ve got you.”
The voice was close, but it felt like it was coming from far away, as if Zoey was already slipping out of reach of it.
Her legs gave out completely, folding under her without resistance. She did not even feel the decision to fall, only the absence of strength that made it inevitable.
Mira lowered her carefully, controlled, like every movement had been rehearsed for a moment like this.
The ground met Zoey slowly. Cold through her clothes. Solid in a way that felt almost surprising, like she had forgotten what stable meant.
Her back rested against Mira, her body no longer something she could fully control or support.
Her head tilted back against Mira’s shoulder. Above her, the ceiling lights blurred into soft, glowing shapes that refused to stay still.
Her eyelids fluttered once. Then she squeezed them shut.
The darkness did not retreat. It waited at the edges instead, patient and steady, creeping closer without urgency.
Then Rumi was there.
Close enough that Zoey felt her presence before she fully saw her. Warm hands lifted her face gently, thumbs brushing slow and careful across her cheeks, grounding her in small, repetitive motions like she was trying to keep Zoey anchored in the moment.
“Zoey…”
Her voice was softer now. Worried in a way that did not need explanation.
Zoey tried to answer.
Her lips parted, but nothing formed. No sound came.
Her throat felt disconnected from the rest of her body, like it no longer belonged to her.
She focused on Rumi’s eyes instead. They were steady, watching her closely, holding her there like they were trying to stop her from slipping away.
Something flickered in Zoey’s chest. Slow. Rising.
Not pain exactly. Not yet. Something colder.
What is happening?
“Shh… it’s okay,” Rumi murmured, when she was the panic raise in her eyes, her thumb continuing its gentle motion along Zoey’s cheek, as if repetition alone could keep her present.
No. It is not okay.
Zoey tried to push the thought out, but it came out wrong, breaking into a small sound of frustration instead.
Everything inside her felt thick now, like her body was filling with something heavy and slow, pulling her downward from the inside.
Her fingers twitched. Then again. Delayed, unsteady. They reached for Rumi’s sleeve, gripping fabric that folded weakly under her hold. She could not keep it. Not properly.
She needed something. Anything.
There was nothing solid enough to take.
“I…”
The word broke apart before it could become real.
“It’s okay,” Rumi said again, steady but quieter now. “We’ve got you.”
Her voice stayed consistent, the only thing in the world that did not feel like it was slipping.
“Let go, Zoey. It’s alright. Don’t fight it.”
Fight what?
The question barely formed before something inside her shifted.
Understanding, sudden and heavy.
Oh.
Oh no.
Her body was shutting down. Not resting. Not tired. Something heavier.
Her stream!
Her body trembled harder now, hands and legs shaking without rhythm, as if they had stopped listening to her entirely.
It hurt. It really did. A deep, vibrating ache that felt like it was coming from everywhere at once.
A low hum pressed against her back where Mira held her, steady and unmovable.
“Zoey, let it happen,” a voice said again, but it was no longer clear who it belonged to.
The darkness at the edges grew closer. Not rushing. Just inevitable.
Her mind tried to hold on. Tried to stay.
But her body had already stopped agreeing with her.
And slowly, everything inside her grew quieter. Until even her thoughts stopped answering back.
Her world faded into pitch black, as if she had been pulled beneath the surface line, deep under the sea.