Backstage Encounters
1286 Words
The backstage area buzzed with a low hum of activity as staff scurried about—adjusting microphones, checking cables, and coordinating last-minute touches. ECLIPSE was set to perform at one of the year’s biggest music shows, and the tension was palpable.
Minho hovered near his makeup station, meticulously organizing his brushes and palettes. He’d arrived early to prepare, determined to ensure each member looked flawless under the glaring stage lights. He’d worked enough shows to know that the smallest details mattered—especially for a group like ECLIPSE, whose every move was scrutinized by fans and critics alike.
He paused to glance around the room. Daehyun was deep in conversation with the stage manager, his calm presence soothing the crew’s frazzled nerves. Jaemin was busy chatting with Seojun about their dance formations, both of them gesturing animatedly. Hyunwoo practiced vocal runs quietly, his warm tone filling the air.
And then there was Jace.
He stood alone near the dressing room door, arms folded across his chest, his gaze distant. He looked like he was made of shadows—sharp angles, unreadable eyes, and a simmering aura that kept everyone at arm’s length. Minho had tried to bridge that distance, but Jace made it clear he wasn’t one to open up easily.
Still, Minho couldn’t help but feel drawn to him.
He was wiping down his brushes when Jaemin appeared, grinning. “Minho-hyung, you’ve got magic hands,” he teased. “Can you make me look like a superstar today?”
Minho laughed. “A superstar? You already are one, Jaemin-ssi.”
Jaemin laughed, tossing his hair dramatically. “Aigoo, I’m gonna tell my fans you said that!”
“Go ahead,” Minho said, eyes twinkling. “They’ll agree.”
Jaemin leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Watch out for Jace today. He’s extra moody. Something about the setlist or maybe the pressure.”
Minho’s brow furrowed. “He seemed quiet earlier.”
Jaemin nodded. “He gets like that before big shows. He’s a perfectionist—hates making mistakes. But don’t take it personally.”
“I won’t,” Minho said, though his mind churned.
As he finished prepping Jaemin’s makeup—softening the angles of his face and adding a shimmer that would catch the stage lights—he stole glances at Jace, who now sat hunched over his phone, scrolling through messages.
When it was finally Jace’s turn, he approached the chair with a heavy sigh. “Let’s get this over with.”
Minho met his gaze calmly. “Of course. You want the usual?”
“Yeah.”
Minho’s hands worked methodically, his fingers gentle as they blended foundation and applied concealer to hide the dark circles beneath Jace’s eyes. Up close, he noticed the tension in Jace’s jaw, the faint tremble in his hands.
“Did you get any sleep last night?” Minho asked softly.
Jace’s eyes flicked up to his. “Not much,” he muttered. “Too much on my mind.”
“Want to talk about it?”
Jace let out a humorless laugh. “What are you, my therapist?”
Minho smiled faintly. “No, just… I’ve seen enough idols crash under the pressure. I’d rather you didn’t.”
For a moment, Jace’s mask slipped. His gaze softened, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “Thanks,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.
Minho nodded, focusing on the final touches. “Hold still,” he murmured, brushing a light contour along Jace’s cheekbones. “You’ve got the kind of face that doesn’t need much work.”
Jace’s lips twitched. “You always say that.”
“That’s because it’s true.”
A small smile played at the corners of Jace’s mouth, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. “Whatever,” he muttered, standing abruptly.
“Jace—”
But he was already walking away, his posture tense, hands shoved deep into his pockets. Minho sighed, his heart heavy. He wanted to help, but Jace made it so damn hard.
After finishing Seojun’s makeup, Minho packed up his kit and wandered backstage, looking for water. The corridor was dimly lit, the air heavy with anticipation. Fans’ screams echoed faintly through the walls, a constant reminder of the world beyond the stage.
He found a small water station near the dressing rooms and was about to pour himself a cup when a voice called out.
“Minho.”
He turned, surprised to see Jace leaning against the wall, his head lowered.
“Hey,” Minho said, voice gentle. “You okay?”
Jace didn’t respond immediately. He stared at the floor, jaw working. “I hate this part,” he muttered.
Minho tilted his head. “The waiting?”
Jace let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah. The waiting. The fans. The cameras. The constant pressure to be… perfect.”
Minho set down his cup and approached, stopping just a step away. “No one’s perfect, Jace. Not even idols.”
Jace met his gaze, eyes dark and turbulent. “Tell that to the fans. Tell that to the company.”
Minho exhaled softly. “I know it’s hard. But you’re not alone, you know.”
Jace scoffed. “Yeah? Feels like it sometimes.”
“Maybe that’s because you keep pushing people away,” Minho said, his voice gentle but firm.
Jace’s eyes widened slightly. “You don’t know me.”
“No,” Minho admitted. “But I’d like to.”
Silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words. Then Jace sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t know how.”
Minho’s heart clenched. “Start small. Let someone in.”
Jace looked at him, vulnerability flickering across his features. “Maybe.”
Before Minho could respond, Daehyun’s voice echoed from down the hall. “Jace! Time to get wired up.”
Jace straightened, his mask slipping back into place. “Gotta go,” he muttered.
Minho watched him disappear down the hall, a pang of sadness in his chest. He knew the road ahead would be complicated—Jace was a labyrinth of walls and shadows. But something in those brief moments of honesty made Minho want to try.
As he returned to his station, Hyunwoo appeared, his smile warm. “How’s our bad boy doing?”
Minho gave a small smile. “He’s… complicated.”
Hyunwoo chuckled. “That’s one way to put it. Just be patient. He’s worth it.”
Minho glanced at the dressing room door where Jace had disappeared. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I think he is.”
Moments later, the call for standby came through the speakers, and the members lined up at the wings of the stage. Minho lingered backstage, watching them.
The lights dimmed, and the roar of the crowd grew deafening. Music pulsed through the air, and ECLIPSE took the stage, their movements precise and electric.
Jace was magnetic under the lights—commanding, fierce, every inch the idol the fans adored. But Minho could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched between lines.
He wished he could reach through the music and the cameras and tell Jace he was more than this performance. That he was seen. That he was enough.
As the song ended and the cheers swelled, Minho clapped with the rest of the staff, a proud smile on his face.
Jace turned, catching his gaze for a brief second. A small smile flickered on his lips before he disappeared into the shadows of the stage.
And for the first time, Minho felt a glimmer of hope that maybe—just maybe—he could find his way through Jace’s darkness.
- Writer
