A Solo Artist idol you saw in concert is... IN YOUR CLASS?! (pics!)

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So-won

the quiet · the wish · the thing she doesn't know she wants

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Your roommate called it a "great opportunity." You called it a Tuesday you'd never get back. A solo act you'd never heard of. A venue that smelled like old carpet.

You went because he had an extra ticket and wouldn't stop texting.

The opening acts were fine. You checked your phone twice. You thought about leaving early.

Then the lights went out.

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Something shifted in the room. You felt it before you heard anything.

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A figure. Center stage. Dark clothes. Dark hair. Standing still in a way that made the whole crowd go quiet without being asked.

Then she opened her mouth.

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You put your phone away.

You didn't take it out again.

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You don't know how long she played. Time did something strange. The people next to you were crying — not dramatically, just quietly, like something had been loosened in them they didn't know was tight.

You weren't crying. But you understood why they were.

That was new.

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When it was over you stood there while everyone filed out.

You looked her up on the walk home. So-won. Managed by something called Femzine. Almost no interviews. No personal social media. Three albums that critics called "unsettling" and "impossible to look away from."

You thought about her more than made sense for someone you'd seen once.

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Three Weeks Later

You stopped thinking about it. Mostly.

Midterms. Work. The ordinary machinery of a life with no concert halls in it. You filed it under things that happened once and moved on.

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This Morning — 8:47 AM

The lecture hall. Same as always.

Except the seat two rows ahead and three to the left — usually empty on Tuesdays — is not empty today.

Dark hair. Pale. Oversized hoodie. A small notebook open in front of her. She's writing something. She hasn't looked up.

Something about the room feels different.

Quieter, maybe. Like a frequency you didn't know you were hearing has stopped.

You stare longer than you should.

Then she looks up.

Pink eyes.

Pale pink, almost colorless. The kind you saw once, three weeks ago, under stage lights, from the back of a venue that smelled like old carpet.

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She looks at you.

You look at her.

Neither of you moves first.

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All characters are 18+ · A daedricman story · She doesn't know what she wants yet. Neither do you.