Front Row Fate

Get in Losers, We're Going Backstage

Hotel Lobby in the Morning

The hotel lobby was quiet in that early-morning kind of way—too late for night owls, too early for the breakfast rush. Ashlee stood in front of the coffee bar, blinking at the machine like it might brew faster if she stared hard enough.

She yawned behind her hand, hoodie sleeves pushed up, shorts barely peeking out. Nat was upstairs, still snoring with her Stray Kids lightstick clutched like a teddy bear. Shelby had mumbled something about needing another hour of sleep.

Ashlee? She needed caffeine.

Just as the machine whirred to life, she heard footsteps behind her—slow, deliberate.

"You made it out alive," a voice said, warm and teasing.

She turned around, lips curving as she recognized the guy from last night. Still hoodie-clad, but no laundry basket this time. His hair was slightly damp, like he'd just showered. "You again," she smirked. "What, you live here or something?"

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Nah, I just visit frequently to laundry rooms and terrible coffee machines."

She grabbed her cup and offered it with a slight raise of her brow. "Then you must be a glutton for punishment. This stuff's like battery acid."

"I've had worse," he said, stepping up beside her and pouring himself a cup without hesitation.

They stood shoulder-to-shoulder for a moment, the quiet surprisingly not uncomfortable.

"Rough morning?" he asked.

She took a sip, winced. "Concert-day chaos. My friend's probably setting up a whole shrine to this band as we speak. I was promised free breakfast, but I'm starting to think this is a scam."

His lips twitched. "You're not excited?"

"I mean, I've never seen them. Heard a few songs, they're catchy. But I'm mostly here to be the supportive best friend and bodyguard when someone tries to snatch a photo card out of her hands."

Just then, someone approached from the hallway—tall, sharp jawline, long blond hair tied loosely at the nape of his neck.

"Chan-oh." The guy stopped, glancing between them. "Am I interrupting?"

Chan—smiled casually. "Not at all."

Hyunjin looked Ashlee up and down, but not in a rude way. More like he was memorizing her features.

"I like your hoodie," he said with a faint smirk. "Looks cozy."

Ashlee blinked. "Thanks? It's... Target's finest."

That earned a soft laugh from both guys. Hyunjin stepped closer, grabbing a coffee cup of his own but keeping his eyes on her.

"You here for the show?"

"Unfortunately," she said, deadpan. "I'm the emotionally kidnapped friend."

Hyunjin chuckled. "That sounds dramatic."

Ashlee grinned. "You haven't met Nat."

The three stood there chatting for a few more minutes.

Hyunjin kept stealing glances at her, though—subtle, but definitely curious. And Chan seemed perfectly at ease, like he enjoyed seeing her thrown into this weird morning trio.

They stood in comfortable silence for a second, all of them sipping their overly bitter hotel coffee.

Hyunjin glanced at her again, head tilting just slightly. "So where are your seats for the concert?"

Ashlee shrugged. "We're up on the balcony. Not super close, but Nat still cried when she got them, so... I guess they're decent."

Hyunjin turned his eyes toward Chan, who just gave the smallest nod—barely there, but clearly a green light.

Reaching into his hoodie pocket, Hyunjin pulled out a small, unmarked white envelope and held it out to her casually. "Here."

Ashlee blinked. "Uh... what's this?"

"Just something extra," Hyunjin said smoothly. "You can open it when you wake your friends up."

She hesitated, staring at it like it might explode, then slowly took it. "That sounds mildly threatening, not gonna lie."

Chan chuckled, shaking his head. "Promise, it's nothing weird."

Still confused but amused, Ashlee tucked the envelope under her arm. "Alright, well... guess I'll find out."

"Hope you enjoy the show," Chan added, voice low but warm.

Ashlee gave them both a small wave, still oblivious, and turned to head back upstairs.

⸻

Scene Cut: Upstairs – Hotel Room

The second she opened the hotel door, she was met with a loud snore from Nat's bed and Shelby curled up like a gremlin under the blanket. Ashlee dropped her hoodie over the chair, holding the mystery envelope in her hand.

She glanced at it again. Curiosity finally won out.

Ripping it open carefully, her breath hitched.

Three concert tickets—front row, pit section. And underneath?

Backstage passes.

Her heart practically stopped. "What the hell..."

The door clicked behind her as Shelby sat up mid-yawn. "Why are you whisper-swearing?"

Ashlee turned slowly, still holding the envelope. "Shelby... wake Nat up."

"Why?"

"Because I think I just broke the universe."