Their hit love song is about you. Millions have no idea. The crowd hears love songs. Every lyric is a private message to you. The roar of the crowd is a distant hum, a vibration in the concrete floor. You find their dressing room, the star on the door a little less bright up close. Inside, Kai isn't the electric deity from the stage, but someone small and quiet, tracing a word on the misted vanity mirror with one finger.