The roaring energy of the crowd vibrated through the walls of the backstage area. Cheers, screams, and anticipation buzzed like static in the air, pressing in on Sakura as she sat hunched over on a bench, her fingers digging into the fabric of her stage outfit.
Her breath came in short, sharp gasps.
She could hear the muffled sound of the staff speaking, the members doing their final warm-ups, the countdown before they were supposed to step onto the stage. The weight of it all crushed down on her, making her chest feel impossibly tight.
She had done this a hundred times before. She had stood on stages all over the world, faced cameras, and smiled even when she wanted to disappear. But tonight, it felt different.
Because she knew what people were saying about her.
“She can’t sing."
“She’s just there for the visuals."
“Why does she even get lines?"
No matter how hard she tried, the words wouldn’t leave her head.
Her vision blurred as she stared down at her trembling hands. She hadn’t even realized she was shaking until Chaewon’s voice cut through the haze.
“Sakura?”
Sakura flinched. Her head shot up to find Chaewon crouched in front of her, her brows furrowed with concern.
“You’re breathing too fast,” Chaewon said gently, reaching out to place a hand on Sakura’s knee. “What’s wrong?”
Sakura opened her mouth, but no words came out. How was she supposed to explain the suffocating fear curling around her throat, the overwhelming dread that made her want to run in the opposite direction?
She didn’t have to say anything.
Chaewon turned back toward the others. “Something’s wrong with Kkura.”
The moment she said it, the rest of LE SSERAFIM turned their attention toward her.
Yunjin, who had been stretching near the mirrors, immediately walked over, her usual playful energy gone, replaced with concern. Kazuha and Eunchae followed, their eyes wide as they took in Sakura’s state.
“Sakura unnie?” Kazuha asked softly.
Eunchae crouched down beside her. “Are you sick?”
Sakura squeezed her eyes shut. She hated this. She hated that she was the oldest but was the one falling apart right before they were supposed to go on stage.
She shook her head quickly, forcing the words out before she could stop herself. “I—I can’t do it.”
Yunjin kneeled down next to Chaewon, her hand resting lightly on Sakura’s back. “What do you mean?”
Sakura’s breath hitched. “I—I’m scared. I don’t want to mess up. I don’t want to get more hate.”
For a moment, no one said anything.
Then Chaewon let out a quiet sigh and squeezed her knee. “Oh, Kkura…”
Sakura tensed as Yunjin wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a warm, steady embrace. She hesitated for a second before leaning into the touch, her body still trembling.
“You don’t have to go through this alone,” Yunjin murmured. “We’re here.”
Kazuha and Eunchae sat down beside her, each of them touching her in some small way—Kazuha’s hand gently rubbing her back, Eunchae’s fingers lightly grasping hers.
“We all get scared sometimes,” Kazuha said softly. “Even if it doesn’t always seem like it.”
Eunchae nodded. “Yeah! And I know you probably feel like you have to be strong because you’re our unnie, but that doesn’t mean you can’t lean on us too.”
Sakura let out a shaky breath, gripping Eunchae’s hand a little tighter.
Chaewon shifted closer, pressing her forehead lightly against Sakura’s. “You belong here, Kkura. No matter what anyone says.”
Sakura felt something in her chest loosen at those words.
She had spent so long convincing herself that she had to prove she was worthy, that she had to be perfect. But right now, with their arms around her, she realized that she didn’t have to carry that burden alone.
“You’re not alone,” Yunjin whispered again.
Sakura swallowed hard, then nodded against her shoulder. “Thank you…”
They stayed like that for a moment, huddled together in a circle of warmth and quiet reassurance. The sound of the stage director calling out the final countdown barely reached her ears, muffled by the steady heartbeats surrounding her.
She took a deep breath.
And for the first time that night, it didn’t feel so impossible to stand up and sing.