#rom coms

The Madrid sun streaming through the thin curtains of my budget hotel room was obnoxiously bright. I groaned, throwing an arm over my eyes, the stiff hotel sheets tangling around my legs.

For a few blissful seconds of half-sleep, my brain was quiet.

Then, the memories of yesterday hit me like a high-speed train.

The airport. The vending machine. The spilled soda. Minatozaki Sana.

I bolted upright in bed, my heart instantly kicking into overdrive. "No way," I muttered to the empty room. "That was a dream. It had to be a dream." It was the only logical explanation. My sleep-deprived brain had simply hallucinated the entire encounter because I was so excited for the concert. There was no way I had bumped into Minatozaki Sana at Barajas Airport, given her my clothes, and ended up with her KakaoTalk. Things like that just didn't happen to normal people who had to save up for months just to afford a plane ticket across Spain and a cheap hotel in the capital.

I rolled over, grabbing my phone off the nightstand. Out of pure muscle memory, I opened Instagram, ready to do my usual morning scroll.

The very first post on my feed was from a K-pop news account. "TWICE arrives safely in Madrid for their world tour!"

I swiped through the carousel of paparazzi photos. Jihyo looking flawless, Nayeon waving at fans, Mina looking like a CEO... and then, the fourth slide.

I stopped breathing.

There she was. Sana, walking toward the VIP vans, her bucket hat pulled low, but her face was clearly visible, sporting a bright, radiant smile as she was waving at the screaming fans.

And she was wearing it.

The oversized, pitch-black t-shirt. The menacing orange tabby cat glaring angrily at the Spanish paparazzi, a katana clenched fiercely in its teeth, its koi fish tattoos swimming down her thighs.

Madre mía.

The phone slipped out of my hand and smacked me right on the bridge of my nose. "¡Joder!" I hissed, scrambling to catch it as it tumbled onto the sheets.

My hands were actually shaking. It wasn't a dream. I really did spill a drink on Minatozaki Sana. I really did give her my clothes.

I swallowed hard and tapped the search bar, typing in Sana’s personal Instagram account. Her official profile loaded, and there, sitting right at the top of her grid, was a brand new post uploaded just a few hours ago.

It was the selfie she had sent me on KakaoTalk, along with two other photos of her posing in her hotel room. In one of them, she had her hair tied up in a messy bun, doing a cute peace sign with a bright, eye-crinkling smile, the collar of my yakuza-cat shirt slipping slightly off one shoulder, exposing her collarbone.

The caption read: Arrived safely in Madrid! 🇪🇸 Thanks for the warm welcome (and the cool shirt!) 🐱⚔️🤍

I stared at the screen for a solid two minutes, my mouth hanging open. She had literally posted my favorite shirt to her nearly eleven million followers. The post already had hundreds of thousands of likes and thousands of comments from confused and delighted fans asking where she got such an uncharacteristically edgy shirt.

Before my brain could tell me it was a terrible idea, my fingers were typing. I didn't want to expose the whole airport fiasco to millions of fans, but I couldn't just say nothing.

I scrolled down to the comment box and typed: Love the shirt.

I hit post. It would get buried under fifty thousand other comments in three seconds anyway.

But seeing her post made my fingers itch. I exited Instagram and opened KakaoTalk. The cherry blossom emoji was sitting right there at the top of my chat list. I tapped it open, reading our brief exchange from yesterday.

I stared at the blinking cursor. Play it cool, I told myself. Don't be weird.

[🐯]: You really like the shirt, eh?

I hit send and immediately tossed the phone to the other side of the bed as if it had caught fire. I scrambled out of bed and walked to the bathroom to splash some cold water on my face, mentally preparing myself to wait hours—or maybe days—for a reply. She was an idol on tour. She was probably doing soundchecks or sleeping.

Bzzzt.

I sprinted back into the bedroom and dove onto the mattress, grabbing my phone.

[🌸]: I like the owner more.

I dropped my phone.

It literally slipped out of my sweaty hands and clattered onto the hotel floor.

I stared down at it, my brain completely short-circuiting. What the...? Did I read that correctly? I picked it up again, squinting at the screen. I like the owner more.

Did Minatozaki Sana just say that? Was she flirting with me? No, no way. I'm just a normal, broke person from Spain who can barely afford a hostel in Madrid. She’s a global superstar. Maybe it was a translation error? Maybe it was a Korean phrase that sounded weird in English?

Nah... maybe...?

How do you even answer that? My fingers hovered over the keyboard, typing and deleting five different responses. 'Haha thanks' (Too boring). 'I like you too' (Too creepy). 'Are you flirting with me?' (Too bold!). I was officially freaking out.

Before I could construct a coherent sentence, my phone buzzed again in my hands.

[🌸]: Too forward? Did I scare you?

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. Okay, she knew exactly what she was saying.

[🐯]: Sorry. I didn’t expect it. My brain kind of stopped working for a second.

[🌸]: It’s ok ㅋㅋㅋ. I see you tomorrow?

My heart did a violent flip. She still wanted to see me.

[🐯]: Well… I’m gonna see YOU, but I don’t know if you’re gonna see me in the crowd. There are going to be thousands of people there.

[🌸]: Don’t worry, me take care of it.

I frowned, a mix of disbelief and guilt washing over me. It was insanely sweet, but she was a superstar. The logistics of this were impossible, and I didn't want her stressing out over a piece of cotton.

[🐯]: Sana, really, you don’t have to give me the shirt back, you can keep it.

There was a pause. The typing dots bounced, disappeared, and then bounced again.

[🌸]: You not want to see me? 🥺

I physically winced at the sad emoji. Even through a screen, her pout was a weapon of mass destruction.

[🐯]: I’m gonna see you. That’s why I’m going to the concert.

[🌸]: No Y/n… See me alone, you not want to?

I stared at the ceiling. See me alone. Why? Why did she want to see me again? I wasn't anyone special. I was just a tired Spanish fan who happened to have a spare t-shirt and terrible coordination around vending machines. But looking at the screen, the sincerity in her broken English was undeniable.

[🐯]: Do you want to? [🌸]: I not ask you if I not want to, right?

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. She had a point.

[🐯]: Right…

I was pacing the room now, biting my thumbnail. Sana wanted to see me again. But why? Because I gave her a shirt? Because I didn't act like a screaming fan? Because I winked at her like an idiot? What was I supposed to do with this information?

Of course I wanted to see Sana again. Who wouldn’t? But this felt dangerous. This felt like stepping off a cliff without checking if there was water at the bottom.

My phone buzzed, pulling me from my spiral.

[🌸]: So? You want to see me or not? [🐯]: Yes? [🌸]: You asking? Not sure? [🐯]: Sorry, I’m nervous. Yes, I want to see you.

The little "read" indicator appeared. A few agonizing seconds passed.

[🌸]: Why nervous? It’s just me. [🐯]: Yeah… just you. That’s why.

I imagined her sitting in her luxurious hotel suite somewhere in Madrid, looking at her phone. I wondered if she was blushing, or if she was just smiling that devastating, playful smile of hers.

[🌸]: I make you nervous? 🤭

I could practically hear her giggling. She knew exactly what she was doing. The shy, blushing girl from the airport corridor was gone, replaced by the lethal, teasing idol who knew exactly how much power she held.

[🐯]: So, tomorrow. Concert. How you plan to meet each other?

[🌸]: I talk to manager later. Tomorrow I sent you what to do.

I stared at the message. She was actually going to arrange this. She was going to talk to her manager to sneak a random fan into the backstage of the WiZink Center. It was insane. It was straight out of a fanfiction.

I locked my phone and dropped my head back against the headboard, letting out a long, shaky exhale. The Madrid morning sun was fully illuminating my room now.

I had spent months saving up for this trip. The plane ticket from Asturias, the hotel, the VIP concert ticket—it had cost a fortune. I had expected to stand at the barricade, wave my Candybong, and maybe, if I was incredibly lucky, get a wave back from the stage.

I never, in a million years, expected to be counting down the hours until I met Minatozaki Sana backstage.

Madre mía, I thought, a helpless smile spreading across my face. I was in so much trouble.

I spent the rest of the day wandering around Madrid in an absolute daze. I walked through El Retiro park, ate a calamari sandwich near Plaza Mayor, and strolled down Gran Vía, but I wasn't really seeing any of it. Every five minutes, I checked my phone, half-expecting a message saying it was all a joke. But the cherry blossom emoji sat at the top of my chat list, a silent, vibrating promise.

Tomorrow, I was going to a TWICE concert.

And tomorrow, I was going to see Minatozaki Sana. Alone.

▬

I woke up the next morning before my alarm even had a chance to ring. The sunlight streaming through the hotel window felt different today. The air felt charged, humming with an electric kind of anxiety that made my stomach do flips.

I reached blindly for my phone on the nightstand. The screen lit up, and there it was.

[🌸]: Good morning! 😊

[🌸]: When enter the venue, go talk to a staff member near the band. He tell you what to do after concert ;)

I stared at the screen, reading the messages over and over until the words started to blur.

Holy shit.

She really did it. She actually pulled the strings.

She could have easily just handed the shirt to a manager and told them to drop it off at the VIP barricade, but no... she wanted to do it herself. She wanted to see me. I squeezed my eyes shut, a nervous, breathy laugh escaping my lips.

I was so fucking nervous I felt nauseous.

Getting ready felt like an out-of-body experience. I stood in front of the tiny bathroom mirror, staring at my reflection with a toothbrush hanging out of my mouth. What do you even wear to meet the girl of your dreams backstage? Do I wear TWICE merch? No, that felt too fan-ish if I was going backstage. Do I dress up? No, I'll sweat to death in the pit. I finally settled on a cool, casual streetwear look that I hoped made me look like I had my life together.

As I rode the metro toward the WiZink Center, my brain went into overdrive, making up a hundred different scenarios of how the meeting would go. What would happen once we saw each other again? Do we hug? Is that allowed, or will a bodyguard tackle me? Is it going to be incredibly awkward? What if she realized I was just a boring, normal person and lost interest immediately? What do you even talk about with an idol in a private room? My palms were sweating just thinking about it.

By the time I arrived at the venue, the area was already buzzing. The energy of the ONCEs waiting outside was infectious. People were handing out free photocards, dancing to Twice songs blasting from portable speakers, and complimenting each other's outfits. For a couple of hours, I almost forgot my impending panic attack as I mingled and made friends with the people in the VIP line. I just let myself be a fan.

When the doors finally opened for the VIP soundcheck, I practically ran to secure a spot near the barricade. Remembering Sana's instructions, I scanned the stage area. Sure enough, standing near the band's equipment was a Korean staff member holding a clipboard.

I caught his eye and gave a small, hesitant wave. He walked over to the barricade.

"Excuse me," I said in English, hoping he understood. "I was told to... talk to you?"

"Y/N?" he asked over the loud hum of the arena.

"Yes, that's me," I said.

He nodded, checking something off. "Okay, Y/N. Enjoy the show. Stay exactly here when the concert finishes. Do not leave with the crowd. I will come get you."

I barely had time to process the reality of those words before the arena erupted into deafening screams. TWICE walked out onto the stage for soundcheck, looking bare-faced, casual, and breathtakingly beautiful.

I scanned the members, and when my eyes landed on Sana, my jaw practically hit the floor.

She was wearing it. Again. My black yakuza cat t-shirt. She had tied the hem in a knot at her waist to make it fit better. I stared at her, utterly baffled. Was she really planning to return it today? Why would she wear it to soundcheck if she was giving it back? Was she... trying to make me notice her?

If that was the plan, it was a massive success.

Sana’s eyes scanned the VIP crowd, locking onto me almost instantly. A brilliant, knowing smile spread across her face, and she gave a tiny, subtle wave in my direction. My heart melted into a puddle.

But as the soundcheck went on, things took an unexpected turn.

Dahyun, who was walking across the stage, spotted me. She must have noticed me smiling like an idiot, because she stopped, crouched down near the edge of the stage, and made a funny face directly at me. I burst out laughing, returning a goofy thumbs-up.

A few seconds later, Nayeon strolled by, slinging an arm around Dahyun. She made eye contact with me, her famous bunny-smile flashing brightly. Without missing a beat, she gave me a playful wink and blew a dramatic, exaggerated kiss right in my direction.

I felt the blood rush to my cheeks so fast I probably looked like a stop sign. I buried my face in my hands, absolutely flustered, earning a loud, delighted cackle from Nayeon as the fans around me screamed in jealousy.

When I peeked through my fingers, my eyes darted to Sana.

She was standing a few feet away, her hands resting firmly on her hips. She had definitely seen the whole interaction. And she did not look amused.

The bright smile from earlier had vanished. Instead, her lips were pushed out into a very prominent, very adorable pout. The contrast of her jealous, grumpy expression right above the menacing samurai cat on my shirt was so funny and endearing I almost forgot how to breathe.

She narrowed her eyes slightly at Nayeon, then glanced at me, her brow furrowing. She shot me a look that clearly said, 'Hey, you're supposed to be looking at me,' before turning on her heel and marching to the other side of the stage, refusing to look in my direction for the rest of the soundcheck.

The sheer possessiveness of that little pout made my heart race faster than the bass of the music.

The actual concert was a blur of pure adrenaline. It was everything I had ever dreamed of and more. The lights, the live band, the thousands of Candybongs creating a synchronized ocean of color—it was a sensory overload in the best way possible. I sang until my throat was raw, danced until my legs ached, and shared incredible moments with the ONCEs around me. I knew, without a doubt, that I was going to remember this night for the rest of my life.

I even made friends with the ONCEs standing next to me. We shared water, took photos for each other, and screamed together. For those three hours, it didn't matter where any of us came from; we were a family. The ONCE family.

But as the final confetti fell and the stadium lights flickered on, the reality of what was about to happen crashed down on me.

The crowd began to filter out of the arena, buzzing with post-concert excitement. I hugged my new friends goodbye, ignoring the security guards ushering people to the exits, and stayed glued to my spot by the barricade.

After about ten agonizing minutes, the same staff member appeared. He motioned for me to follow him. He lifted the barrier, and suddenly, I was crossing the threshold from the public arena into the labyrinth of the backstage area.

We walked down concrete hallways filled with massive road cases and busy crew members shouting in Korean and Spanish.

Finally, he stopped in front of a door, knocked twice, and pushed it open, gesturing for me to enter.

I stepped inside, and my soul temporarily left my body.

It was a large room, buzzing with chaotic energy. The girls were all there, already changed out of their stage outfits into their comfortable, normal clothes. Jihyo and Jeongyeon were eating snacks from a catering table. Chaeyoung and Mina were huddled over a phone, and Momo was recording some video content with a handheld camera.

I was standing in the same room as TWICE. Breathing the same air.

I was so paralyzed with shock that I didn't even notice someone walking up to me until a soft, familiar voice broke the silence.

"Close mouth."

I blinked, snapping out of my trance. Sana was standing right in front of me, a playful, sparkling giggle escaping her lips as she looked at my awestruck expression.

"S-sorry…" I stammered, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. "I… I’m trying to process this."

Sana laughed again, a bright, melodic sound that made my stomach flutter. Without a second thought, she reached out, taking my wrist in her hand, and pulled me fully inside the room, shutting the door behind me. Her hand was so soft, and the gesture was so natural it made my head spin.

She turned to the rest of the room and spoke in rapid, enthusiastic Korean. I didn't understand the exact words, but I caught "shirt" in English, and she gestured proudly between me and her chest.

It was only then that I realized she was still wearing the yakuza cat t-shirt.

The room went quiet for a second before chaos erupted. The girls all turned, their eyes widening in recognition. They immediately started greeting me, bowing and waving, a chorus of "Hello!" and "Nice to meet you!" filling the room.

But then, the tone shifted. Jeongyeon smirked, saying something rapidly in Korean that made Jihyo burst into loud laughter. Momo chimed in from behind her camera, zooming in on Sana and adding a comment that made Sana's eyes go wide.

Whatever they were saying, it made Sana blush furiously. Her entire face turned the color of a strawberry, and she whined, swatting playfully in Jeongyeon's direction. "Yah! Hajima!"

I didn't understand a single word of Korean, but I smiled anyway, looking a bit confused but incredibly endeared by their dynamic.

Sana guided me toward the plush leather couches in the center of the room, and soon, a few of the members wandered over, casually pulling up chairs or perching on the armrests. It was fascinatingly, almost terrifyingly normal. They offered me a bottle of water, asked me if I enjoyed the concert, and I even ended up teaching them a few basic words in Spanish. I couldn't help but laugh as they dramatically tried to roll their 'R's, repeating "Gracias" and "Arriba" with varying degrees of success.

But it was mostly Dahyun and Nayeon who dominated the conversation with me, clearly recognizing my face from the barricade during soundcheck.

They had trapped me on the couch—Dahyun on my left, and Nayeon sitting just a little too close on my right.

"You turn very red," Nayeon teased in English, leaning a little too close, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "When I send kiss."

"I... uh, well, you surprised me," I choked out, gripping my water bottle like a lifeline. I could feel my face doing exactly what she was teasing me about, the heat creeping up my neck at an alarming rate.

Dahyun giggled, her eyes crinkling into adorable half-moons as she lightly slapped my arm. "So cute!"

Nayeon hummed in agreement, leaning in even closer, tilting her head as she looked me up and down. She was so close I could see the faint glitter of her stage makeup. "You are very cute," she purred, her famous bunny smile on full display. "Are all Spanish ONCEs this cute?"

My brain completely short-circuited. System failure. Im Nayeon was flirting with me. The oldest member of TWICE was actively flirting with me just to see me panic. I felt my face ignite, reaching a temperature that could probably boil water. My stutter returned full force as I tried to form a coherent, cool English sentence, but all that came out was a pathetic, breathless little squeak. I failed miserably.

"Cute," Nayeon laughed in triumph, reaching out. Her cool index finger lightly poked my burning cheek.

The other girls around the couch cooed at my reaction. To them, my flustered, starstruck panic was apparently the most hilarious and adorable entertainment they’d had all day. I was completely defenseless against them.

I glanced up, silently praying for a rescue, and my eyes landed on Sana.

She was standing by the catering table a few feet away, holding a bottle of juice. She wasn't laughing with the rest of them. She was staring directly at Nayeon’s finger on my cheek, and her jaw was clenched tight. The bright, bubbly aura she usually carried was entirely gone, replaced by that same, adorable pout I had seen during soundcheck.

She didn't like the way Nayeon was making me blush, and she definitely didn't like sharing my attention when she had gone through so much trouble to get me back here.

Suddenly, she set her juice down with a sharp thud.

Before Nayeon could tease me again, a hand -soft, but surprisingly firm- wrapped around my wrist.

I looked up. But Sana wasn’t looking at me; her dark eyes were locked onto Nayeon. It wasn't real, genuine anger, but the air around her practically vibrated with a very clear, very territorial energy. It was a look that screamed, 'Mine.'

"We go now," Sana announced to the group, her tone surprisingly firm. She didn't let go of my wrist.

Nayeon slowly leaned back into the couch. An amused, deeply knowing smirk played on her lips. She clearly knew exactly what she was doing by teasing me, and she had gotten the exact reaction out of Sana she was aiming for. "Going where?" Nayeon asked in Korean, her tone innocent but her eyes sparkling with triumph.

"To other room," Sana replied in English, ignoring Nayeon's smirk and looking directly at me. Her dark eyes were intense, masking a flicker of something almost nervous. "To... talk. And give shirt back."

Before I could even process the words "other room" or say goodbye to the rest of the group, Sana tugged on my wrist.

"Wait, nice to meet—!" I tried to call out over my shoulder, but Sana was already leading me out of the chaotic green room. I caught one last glimpse of Nayeon waving victoriously and Dahyun hiding her giggles behind her hands before the heavy door clicked shut behind us, cutting off the noise of the room entirely.