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Away. Jisung’s terrified brain had no room for other thoughts. Not where the green room was, not where he could find a manager, just staying on his feet and running until he spotted a single-stall bathroom and darted inside, cramming himself into a corner.
Now that he was away, his brain found space to notice that he was hyperventilating. He tried to slow it down, but how slow was slow enough? He knew his time sense was fucked when he got like this.
The door opened. Shit. A STAY. He tried desperately to wipe the tears off his face, compose himself a little, but he was fucked, he was absolutely fucked, he could just imagine the pictures—
“Oh,” said the person, startled, “Sorry, I didn’t realize there was anyone in here—hey, buddy, you okay?”
It was a girl, blonde hair tied up in a ponytail. She didn’t start screaming or pull out her phone, just looked at him, worry creasing her brow.
“What’s your name?” added the girl when he didn’t answer. Jisung stared some more. She doesn’t know who I am. Okay. Not a STAY. Just a random person.
“Peter,” he croaked, just to be safe.
“Okay. Hey, Peter. It looks like you’re having a panic attack over there, can I try to help?” After a second, he nodded.
“Cool.” She moved inside, letting the door shut behind her. “I’m going to lock the door, just so no one makes the same mistake I did, but you’re free to go whenever, okay? I won’t try to stop you.” She slowly flipped the latch Jisung had forgotten about in his panic, crossed the room, and sat down next to him against the wall. “Can I touch you?” When he hesitated, she added, “Just your hand.” Okay, then. He nodded again and held out his hand. She took it, resting their joined hands on the floor between them and running her thumb over the back of his hand soothingly. “You’re safe. Everything’s going to be fine. If I count to four, do you think you can try to breathe with me? In for four, hold for four, out for four.” Jisung nodded a third time.
They breathed together slowly, just as the girl had said. In, one, two, three, four. Hold, one, two, three, four. Out, one, two, three, four. Interspersed with a steady, easy, stream of praise. That’s good, you’re doing great, keep it up, there you go.
When Jisung felt like he had control over his airflow again, he broke out of the pattern and squeezed her hand. She smiled at him, and he returned it cautiously.
“Now, I don’t want to pressure you at all, but if you want a hug, I am totally okay with that. Just so you know it’s on the table.” When he didn’t immediately take her up on it, she continued smoothly. “Is there someone you need to call? Somewhere I can help you find? I’m not the best with sense of direction, but I do have Google Maps on my phone.”
Chan, he wanted to say, I need Chan. Or Minho. But how?
“I don’t have my phone, and I don’t have anyone’s number memorized,” he admitted. “And I can’t go out like this.”
“There’s a thrift store across the street, I could run over there and pick you up a hoodie, maybe a hat? And I have a face mask in my bag.”
He was impossibly grateful for this strange girl. But he was pretty sure if he tried to walk back, covered up or not, he’d have another anxiety attack.
“Or I could go get someone for you?”
There was no way she could just walk up to Chan. But…there was a password, for exactly such an occasion. It meant he had to trust her, because there was no way she wasn’t going to notice he was famous after this, but he thought he could.
“Do you have paper?”
She fished out a receipt from her wallet, and Jisung picked up a pen he’d seen abandoned on the floor and wrote a quick note on the back.
“Can you take this down to the convention center and give it to one of the security guards?”
“Of course.” She didn’t even blink, just folded up the receipt, put it in her pocket, and stood up.
“And, um. Would you mind leaving your phone here, so they can call me?”
She made a face. “If you draw me a map back to the convention center.”
He drew one on a second receipt, pulling up Google Maps on the phone to double-check it.
“Okay, if I call you in twenty minutes from someone else’s phone going where the fuck am I, it’s gonna be your job to guide me back to civilization, okay? But I’ll do my best.” He managed a laugh, and she grinned back.
But the next time the phone rang, it was a video call. He accepted it, and his manager’s face filled the screen, looking worried.
“Han! Are you safe?”
“All quiet on the western front, manager-nim,” answered Jisung—another password. I’m fine, really. No one has a gun to my head making me say that. It was funny using it in literal Los Angeles, he thought. There might be song lyrics in that. He put it aside for later and focused on dropping his location.
“Got it. We’ll send a car. Five minutes.”
The car pulled up in four and a half. The bathroom door flung open, and Chan strode in, falling to his knees to scoop Jisung into his chest.
“I’m okay, hyung,” Jisung promised. “She took good care of me.”
“Scared the shit out of me when some guard walked up to me with a note with the password in it,” said his manager, who had followed Chan in. “I’m just glad she didn’t call the press instead. You know how much of a risk that was?”
That was the other reason Jisung had requested she leave her phone. If she was going to call someone about what she’d seen, it would at least be after Jisung was out of there. But also…
“She doesn’t know who I am,” he protested. Chan furrowed his brow.
“She did not look even a tiny bit surprised at security rushing around and sending a car for you, at a Stray Kids concert, she has to have some idea.”
“Where is she?”
“Signing an NDA, probably,” said his manager. “Come on.”
“I have to give her the phone back.”
“Fine, we’ll take you to her first,” said Chan. “And then we’re going back to the hotel!”
The strange girl was sitting at a conference table when Jisung found her, reading the paperwork carefully before signing at the bottom of each one.
“Here’s your phone,” Jisung said, sliding it across the table. She looked up and grinned.
“They found you!”
“Yep. Thanks for your help today.”
“My pleasure. Tell the Kids I said hi.” She went back to her paperwork as though that was the end of it.
“So you know.”
She looked up again. “Full disclosure? I recognized you when I saw you.”
“Then why did you ask me my name?” he squawked.
“I wanted you to feel safe, like you could unmask. You’re a person before you’re an idol, and I’m a person before I’m a fan. I’m a lot of things before I’m a fan, actually, I’m pretty casual. And you deserved better than to be freaking out about your image and publicity and stuff when you’re already having a panic attack.”
Jisung thought he might cry.
“I’m not going to tell anyone. Scout’s honor.” She held up three fingers. “I know I’m signing a bunch of paperwork that says I won’t, but I wanted you to know I wouldn’t anyway, because I think that’s a shitty thing to do.”
“Is that hug still on offer?”
She let out a small laugh, stood, and spread her arms. Jisung stepped into them and squeezed.
“I usually have it under better control,” Jisung explained to the wall behind her. “But today was just, so many things going wrong.”
“Perfect storm? Yeah, I get that. I’m glad this isn’t a frequent occurrence.” They released each other.
“I don’t usually run away to have anxiety attacks in restrooms, no. I also don’t usually hug complete strangers, so I’ll be chalking this up to a very weird day.”
“I think you’re allowed an off day.” She neatened her stack of paperwork just in time for Jisung’s manager to come in. He flipped through the stack, apparently found it satisfactory, and nodded at her.
“I’ll be escorting you off the premises, ma’am, if you’ll come with me.”
“Take care, Han,” said the girl, waving at him and turning to follow. “I’m glad I could help.”
“Will do. Thank you again.”
They were almost around the corner when something occurred to him.
“Wait! I didn’t get your name!”
She tossed a smile over her shoulder and kept walking. “I’m nobody, really. Just another alien on this earth.”