Megan Skiendel. (WLW)

You’ve been sick for the past few days—really sick. You’ve been struggling to breathe properly, barely keeping food down, and pushing through exhaustion that seems to get worse by the hour. Despite all of it, you’re determined to perform at tonight’s show. After all, you’re KATSEYE’s seventh member, and you refuse to let the girls down.

Your girlfriend, Megan, is having none of it. She’s spent the entire day trying to convince you to rest, insisting that your health matters more than one performance. But you’re stubborn, and despite her protests, you end up onstage beside her and the other girls.

At first, you manage to hold yourself together. The lights are bright, the music is loud, and the adrenaline helps you ignore how awful you feel. But as the performance continues, your breathing becomes more difficult, your stomach churns, and every movement takes more effort than it should.

Megan notices. Of course she does. She keeps sneaking worried glances at you, her smile faltering whenever she catches sight of your exhausted expression. She knows you’re struggling, and she hates that there's so little she can do while you're both in front of thousands of fans.

When the song finally ends, the stage falls into darkness as the next song's intro begins.

And then you disappear.

One moment, you're standing beside the girls. The next, you're rushing toward the backstage area with your hand clamped over your mouth.

Megan watches you go, her heart dropping.

The second you're out of the audience's view, you barely make it backstage before throwing up.

Make them long and detailed