Chapter Text
The train cut smoothly through endless fields painted in deep summer green, sunlight flickering rhythmically through the windows whenever they passed clusters of trees. Everything outside looked soft somehow — golden, warm, almost unreal beneath the bright afternoon sky.
She rested her forehead lightly against the cool glass and smiled to herself for what had to be the hundredth time that day.
She was actually going.
After months of waiting, months of replaying albums until she knew entire verses by heart, months of staying awake far too late just to watch blurry livestream clips from whatever city the boys were currently performing in — she was finally on her way to a BTS concert.
Her first one.
The ticket had cost an absurd amount of money. Even now she still wasn’t entirely sure how she had managed to secure it. Pure luck, probably. Luck and terrifyingly fast fingers during presale.
Worth every penny.
Not only for tonight itself, but for the anticipation alone. The small bursts of happiness she had carried with her for months now. Every morning drive with BTS playing through the speakers. Every quiet moment in the kitchen singing Korean lyrics while packing lunchboxes. Every late-night scroll through tour updates while her husband slept beside her.
And now she was here. On a train. On her way to see them. A laugh almost escaped her at the thought. God, she felt ridiculous. Ridiculously happy.
Outside, rolling hills slowly replaced the flatter countryside. The sky stretched endlessly above them, impossibly blue, and for the first time in a long while life felt strangely light. Not easy exactly — life with two children was never easy — but light in the way summer sometimes made things feel softer around the edges.
Like maybe joy didn’t always have to be earned.
She reached into her handbag and pulled out a small compact mirror alongside her mascara. Tilting her face toward the light, she carefully brushed the wand through her lashes.
Her reflection looked... good. Better than good, actually.
Her skin glowed naturally without a trace of foundation, cheeks slightly flushed with that soft warmth she only ever seemed to get during ovulation. No blemishes. No dark circles worth mentioning. Just healthy skin kissed by summer heat and excitement.
If only hormones could cooperate like this all the time.
She smiled at herself, turning her head slightly from side to side.
The minimal makeup suited her best anyway. She had never liked heavy foundation. She preferred looking like herself.
Her light summer dress pooled softly around her knees as the train swayed gently along the tracks. She hadn’t worn it in years.
Partly because dresses like this were wildly impractical with small children constantly clinging to your legs or sticky little hands grabbing at the fabric. But also because somewhere along the way she had started feeling too old for it. Too much like a woman trying to relive her twenties.
Too visible. Too feminine. Too... sexy.
But now, after finally feeling comfortable in her body again following both pregnancies, the dress fit differently. Or maybe she simply wore it differently.
For the first time in years, she looked at herself and didn’t immediately search for flaws.
Today she felt pretty. Young. Alive.
Her phone suddenly rang, pulling her from her thoughts.
The screen lit up with her husband’s name.
She answered immediately. “Hey.”
In the background she could already hear the chaos of children’s voices, followed by muffled movement and what sounded suspiciously like someone whining dramatically.
“Hey, Darling” her husband said. “Do you know where the kids’ health insurance cards are?”
She laughed softly. Of course.
Their family vacation had been planned months ago together with grandparents, siblings, cousins — a whole carefully organized family trip.
Then the concert tickets had happened.
So now he was driving ahead with the children while she would join them by train afterward.
“The insurance cards are in the dresser” she said. “Bottom drawer. There should be a transparent pouch in there. The vacation medicine is inside too.”
She heard him walking down the hallway before the sound of drawers opening crackled through the speaker.
A few seconds later:
“Found it.”
“Everything there?”
“Yep. All there. Thank you.”
She smiled, absentmindedly tracing circles against the edge of her phone case.
“When does your train arrive?”
“About two more hours. Then I still have to get to the stadium.” Her grin widened instantly. “God, I’m so excited.”
He chuckled softly, clearly amused by her inability to hide it.
“Well then... have fun.”
“Thank you. And drive carefully, okay? Text me when you arrive.”
“I will.”
“And give the little ones a big kiss from Mommy.”
“I’ll do that.”
A brief pause.
“Love you.”
“Love you too. Bye.”
“Bye bye.”
The call ended, leaving behind a sudden quiet hum of train tracks and distant conversation.
For a moment she stared at the dark screen before opening her photo gallery almost instinctively.
Hundreds of pictures.
Icecream covered faces, smiling. Bright blue eyes looking into the camera. Angelfaces, when sleeping.
Her babies weren’t babies anymore.Three and five years old already.
„The days are long, but the years are short“ she thinks to herself. Her chest tightened briefly with that strange bittersweet ache motherhood carried so often — overwhelming love mixed with the constant grief of time passing too quickly.
Then, gently, she locked her phone again. No sadness today. Today was happiness. Pure happiness.
She slipped her headphones back on and reopened her BTS playlist. Music immediately flooded her ears, familiar and comforting. Quietly mouthing along to the lyrics, she practiced some of the Korean lines under her breath.
Some parts still twisted her tongue awkwardly. Especially the faster rap sections. Still, she tried.
By the time the train entered the mountains properly, the hours had passed almost unnoticed.
Her pulse quickened instantly when the conductor finally announced the final stop.
This was it. Her stomach flipped so suddenly she almost felt nauseous.
Excitement buzzed through her entire body as she stepped onto the crowded platform, warm summer air hitting her skin immediately.
And then she saw them. ARMYs. Everywhere.
Groups of girls and young women dressed in glitter, platform boots, oversized streetwear, pastel skirts, carefully styled hair, photocards dangling from bags. Purple everywhere.
The sight felt almost surreal against the backdrop of the otherwise conservative city. Like someone had spilled color across a gray canvas.
And somehow, despite being older than most people around her, she didn’t feel out of place at all.
Quite the opposite.
Without even checking directions, she simply followed the flow of brightly dressed fans toward the subway station — carried forward by music, anticipation, and the strange comforting feeling of belonging to something much larger than herself.
-
The moment she stepped onto the enormous plaza in front of the stadium, her breath caught.
People. Everywhere.
The entire square pulsed with life — thousands upon thousands of fans flooding the open space in waves of color, music, laughter, and excited chatter. The stadium itself towered above them like something unreal, sunlight reflecting off the massive structure while purple banners fluttered softly in the warm summer breeze.
For a second she simply stood there, overwhelmed.
The atmosphere was incredible. Not chaotic. Not stressful. Alive.
It reminded her unexpectedly of the festivals she had gone to as a teenager — those endless summer weekends where everyone looked beautiful and sun-kissed and strangely free. The same buzzing anticipation lingered in the air here too. Like everyone had collectively agreed that today reality could wait a little.
Everywhere she looked, people had dressed up for the occasion.
Platform boots. Glitter makeup. Dyed hair. Tiny skirts and oversized jerseys. Purple accessories in every imaginable shade.
It should have looked ridiculous. Instead, it felt weirdly magical.
Small groups of ARMYs had lined the edges of the plaza with handmade merchandise stands. Foldable tables overflowed with homemade keychains, tote bags, bracelets, scarves, stickers, photocards, pins — every possible item decorated with the faces of the seven idols.
She had seen videos of these fan markets online countless times before.
But seeing it in person was entirely different.
At home, scrolling through social media late at night, homemade merch had seemed like harmless little trinkets. Cute but unnecessary.
Here, though? Here it felt like a real marketplace built entirely out of collective affection.
People bartered. Laughed. Complimented each other’s outfits. Exchanged photocards with the seriousness of international diplomacy.
And above all else, one thing became immediately obvious. The collective yearning of women.
It hung in the air almost visibly. Because yes — BTS were extraordinary artists. But they were also ridiculously attractive young men.
She wandered slowly between the stands, listening to nearby conversations with growing amusement.
“Jimin’s jawline is literally insane.”
„Had you seen Yoongi’s stare? I thought I would die“
“Hobi smiling should honestly be illegal.”
“Namjoon’s dimples are a public health hazard.”
“Jungkook’s bunny smile— stop, I’m serious, STOP.”
“And Taehyung flirting with cameras like that? He knows exactly what he’s doing.”
“And Jin? Please. Mr. Worldwide Handsome for a reason.”
She nearly snorted aloud.
Honestly?
They weren’t wrong.
More than once she herself had sat alone late at night in front of her computer replaying the music video for Blood, Sweat & Tears an embarrassing number of times.
There was simply something fascinating about the way BTS embodied sensuality. It felt different from Western media somehow. Less aggressive. More polished in a way of true art. More deliberate. Expressive. Emotional.
They made desire look beautiful rather than performative.
And yes.
She had absolutely swooned too.
Thankfully her husband had never been bothered by her BTS obsession. Quite the opposite, actually.
She still remembered laughing one evening while explaining her personal philosophy to him:
“You get your appetite elsewhere,” she said matter of factly, “but you eat at home.”
His just laughted at that and let her be. They were not constricting each other.
Honestly, her attraction to BTS probably benefited him more than anyone else.
Still smiling to herself, she continued browsing the stands until something suddenly caught her eye.
A handmade keychain.
Simple, but beautiful.
Petrol-colored and lavender beads were woven together in alternating patterns, the cool tones complementing each other perfectly. Hanging from the bottom was a tiny laminated photo of Yoongi.
Specifically, a deeply unimpressed Yoongi.
He looked utterly done with humanity — lips twisted sideways in visible annoyance, eyes narrowed like someone had interrupted his peace for the hundredth time that day.
The sheer humor of choosing that particular expression for a keychain made her burst into laughter.
“Oh my god,” she muttered under her breath.
Immediately she knew she had to buy it.
Yoongi had become her bias almost unintentionally over the past months. Something about his quiet sarcasm and understated humor had drawn her in before she even realized it. The way he seemed detached one second only to completely lose control laughing the next.
It reminded her of her husband when they had first met over a decade ago.
Mysterious. Dryly funny. A little difficult to read.
Men who looked emotionally unavailable until suddenly they weren’t.
She rolled the keychain between her fingers thoughtfully.
Her husband was absolutely going to roll his eyes when she brought this home.
Which honestly made the purchase even funnier.
Whatever. Today was for her.
After clipping the keychain carefully onto her bag, she continued toward the stadium itself.
The line outside the entrance was massive. Endless, really.
Young women had apparently been queueing since early morning just for the chance to stand as close to the stage as possible. She understood it, honestly. The idea of seeing BTS only a few meters away probably felt unreal.
Still, she couldn’t help observing the sea of phones already clutched tightly in people’s hands.
That part always made her a little sad.
Whenever she watched concert videos online, half the audience seemed to experience the entire show through a screen. Thousands of shaking smartphone recordings instead of actual memories.
And the strangest part was watching BTS themselves trying so hard to connect with the crowd — smiling, waving, making eye contact — while being met mostly with the backs of phones instead of faces.
What a bizarre world they lived in now.
Shaking her head softly to herself, she walked straight past the queue. Past the entrance. Past the growing crowd gathered near the gates. Because unlike most people here today, she had other plans.
Connections.
The thought alone made her grin slightly.
Last year she had gone to a rock concert with one of her closest friends. Completely by chance, that friend had known the sound engineer working the event that night.
Instead of sitting somewhere in the far back rows, they had ended up with special wristbands granting them access to the first barricade section directly in front of the stage.
She still remembered the feeling vividly.
Being so close to the band that you could see sweat on their skin. Hear their breathing between songs. Watch tiny facial expressions invisible to everyone else in the arena.
It changed concerts completely.
And now?
Now she intended to do it again.