Neighbour Boy, 14:03
Did you know feral pigeons can recognise themselves in videos?

You, 14:15
Excuse me?

Neighbour Boy, 14:16
I was researching them after seeing a group outside. They're surprisingly interesting and intelligent. They could even distinguish one painter's work from another's.

You, 14:18
Okay
Why are you telling me this?

I smile at the texts, Isaac is a huge animal nerd. But I let his obsession slide since that is what he's studying. Though I don't get why anyone would need to study the intelligence of a pigeon.

Neighbour Boy, 14:18
Because it's cool. That dumb little pigeon everyone hates is as smart, if not smarter, than the average 3 year old. Your cousin is dumber than a pigeon.

You, 14:19
Firstly, rude. Secondly, don't tell me you'll be adopting a pigeon instead of having children now

Neighbour Boy, 14:19
Sounds like less work and less money. I'd call them Dragonfly.

You, 14:19
Dragonfly?

Neighbour Boy, 14:20
You named a cat Turtle, you're in no place to judge.

A soft chuckle escapes me, warming my cheeks and quietly echoing around the small break room of the record building.

While Isaac's in his pigeon-crowded university, I've spent the last 4 hours recording. Not only do I want to get this album just right, so does the producer. I can feel her passion through every praise and scolding she gives me.

So far it's been going pretty well. We have 8 out of the 14 songs recorded and edited. There's still a long way to go but it doesn't matter how slowly the progression train moves, I'm still as excited and committed as ever. 

"Jem, breaks nearly over," my manager pops his head in through the matt, black door, "You're on a roll today. Casey wants to get one more song prepared before you can leave."

I nod at him, placing my phone down on the table next to my sunset coloured water bottle. I've lost track of how many refills I've given it today, not to mention the bathroom trips. 

I get up and follow him out of the break room, sliding my fingers around the white strap of my bottle. "Sounds good. I'm not sure where it all came from but I have the energy of a meerkat cub."

Fahim cocks an eyebrow as we both make our way down the thin halls. The white walls open the space a little, along with the skylights. The sun graces us, glittering through raindrops on the glass. 

November is that odd month where it's still Autumn but it feels like winter, and our winters consist of extra rain.

"Keep that energy going for the mini tour you're set for. February 15th to the 26th. We're aiming to drop your album soon so hopefully that'll draw in more crowds." He opens the studio door and gestures for me to go in first. 

I thank him and linger outside the recording booth, "What are the sales like?" I ask nervously.

We began selling tickets in February of this year and I haven't checked back since. I've been too scared to. I brush the goosebumps scattered across my arms as if I'm warming myself up. 

"Great. Your first gig is nearly sold out and the rest have more than enough tickets taken. The work you did on social media really helped boost you into the sights of more people." He flashes a smile that sparkles in his deep brown eyes.

With a breath of reassurance, I step into the booth and get myself prepped with a gulp of lukewarm water. 

"Jem! Oh my god, hey!" I turn towards the shouting, confused on my way home from the studios. 

There's a perfect route home from the city that takes me into a small national park and leads me through a thin woodland, eventually reaching the suburbs.

While the trees are barely clinging onto their last leaves, they still somehow look pretty. Prettier with the rolls of fog dancing between them, creating a stark yet soft contrast with the way each bit of brown bark fades away. The floor is covered in orange and brown leaves that crinkle with every step and add to the smell of a freshly dampened woodland.

The cool air nips at my nose as I bury my hands deeper into my coat pockets, fixing my eyes upon another guy.

He's smiling so wide I'd be worried for his cheeks but he doesn't leave me in silence for long. "Imagine running into you in a woodland! Ah my god, I've been listening to you for like a year now," If the sun wasn't still lighting the sky, just barely, his energy alone probably would. 

"Oh, thank you." I blush and look away.

"Could I get a picture with you? Pretty please?" He asks, his eyes pleading like a sad puppy. 

This doesn't happen to me often, so with a bubble of excitement, I agree and the boy let's out an excited yip. We pose for the picture, and after he takes many many shots, the interaction is done. Luckily, he waves goodbye and we both go on our ways. 

It's not everyday that I get noticed, partly because I'm not that famous and the majority of my fame comes from social media. 

I return home, humming one of the new songs, happy about the fan. 

"Well I was gonna ask about your day but I can feel your glee from here." My mom greets me as I slip my coat and shoes off.

"Yep it was pretty good." My smile widens. Life has really been giving me its heart as of late. 

"I got called in for an extra shift. There's some food in the fridge ready to be reheated," she tugs my arm, dragging me down to plant a kiss on my forehead, "luckily it's nothing that'll make you grow any taller." She huffs and leaves with a wave. 

I shake my head, laughter sitting at the edge of my lips. She probably waited for her last spare second to greet me home.

The food smells great once I've heated it and taken the lid off, letting the steam pour out. While I'm eating I check my phone, furrowing my brows at the screen. It opens on Isaac's contact but scrolled far back into the thread. A few days back. 

That's…Weird. Though I probably left it on this contact and maybe scrolled through it with my butt? Oh no, I didn't butt text him did I? 

I dash down to the bottom of the thread, moving my fingers faster than I thought I could. But there's nothing. No weird incoherent messages of numbers and letters, no weird sentences made up of suggested words. Thank god.

I let out a sigh of relief and shovel more food into my mouth. 

A new notification pops up: I've been tagged in something. I click it, thinking through everything it could be. Maybe the guy from earlier posting the pictures?

No.

This is bad. I know it's bad but I have yet to feel anything about it. My eyes carefully scan the words, going over each one multiple times. It's a link to an article. A very bad article!

〇 FoliageNews @FoliageNOfficial New screenshots circling from @JemJonhstone 's phone. The talented rising musician has a secret, who could this Neighbour Boy be? While some fans dream of a cheesy romance between him and his shy neighbour, others can't agree that the two are that close.

Http://FoliageNews-The-Secrets-of-Jem-Johnstone

And now I feel the severity kicking in, hitting me right in the ribs and pulling them tight around my lungs.

There's no way anyone got screenshots. But–how would they know his contact name? I take a deep breath and click on the link, scrolling past ads and a lot more text than necessary.

Then I land on them. The screenshots. Taken right from my phone. One is a picture taken of my phone showing the thread and the others all screenshots, sharing personal conversations that were privately between just us.