“Are you going to tell me what’s going on, or do I have to drag it out of you?” Pink demanded, fixing me with a glare from her spot on the studio couch. She had brought dinner, and Big and Turbo had also shown up, filling the room with their presence and the comforting hum of conversation.

When our schedules got hectic, we always made time for moments like this. Friendship was the glue that kept us sane amidst the chaos.

We had tried reaching out to Benz earlier, but he wasn’t at his apartment. He’d texted back that he was busy, but none of us had seen him in over a week. Though I trusted he’d open up when he was ready—Benz was private by nature, a trait rooted in his upbringing—it was still hard not to worry. Forcing him to talk would only make him retreat further.

Leaning back in my chair, I weighed my options. Did I even want to tell them what was happening? Pink already knew about Idol, but I hadn’t filled her in on what happened with Cherry or explained Gift. She had, however, heard from Mom about my date with Gift, and judging by the pointed look she was giving me, she was ready to murder me for withholding details.

“It came back to bite me,” I muttered.

The room fell silent. My three friends exchanged puzzled looks, as if they weren’t sure they’d heard me correctly.

I sighed and continued, trying to sound detached. “I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have gotten involved with Idol. I ended things, and Mom set me up with Gift. We like each other, so we’re continuing to date.”

Turbo froze mid-bite, his wide eyes darting between me and the others. Right, I hadn’t exactly clued him in on my situation with Idol. Turbo lived in his own world most of the time, blissfully oblivious unless someone spelled things out for him. Big, on the other hand, didn’t look surprised—he had probably pieced it together on his own and decided not to pry.

“Wait a second,” Turbo said, setting his food down. “You were involved with Idol? Like, the Idol? And you knew?” He jabbed a finger at Pink, who rolled her eyes.

“You should try paying attention for once,” Pink huffed. “It’s been obvious for months that they were hooking up.”

“Hooking up?” Turbo repeated, his face twisting into a comical mix of shock and disbelief. “You’re telling me you slept with Idol?”

Pink grabbed her chopsticks and threw them at him. “Grow up, Turbo!”

“Guys!” I held up my hands before Turbo could retaliate. “Whatever happened between Idol and me doesn’t matter. It’s over. He’s perfectly happy with his public relationship with Coco, and I’ve moved on.”

Pink didn’t look convinced. “Why’d you end it?” she asked, her tone casual but her eyes sharp.

“Cherry said something that made me realize I couldn’t keep seeing him,” I replied, attempting indifference. I wasn’t fooling anyone, though. They all knew me too well.

“Cherry?” Pink wrinkled her nose. “What does she have to do with anything?”

“What’s wrong with Cherry?” Turbo asked, looking genuinely confused. “She’s a bit... simple, but she’s harmless.”

“There’s something off about her,” Pink said bluntly. “I just don’t like her.”

Big ignored their bickering and fixed his gaze on me. “Did you talk to Idol about it?”

“I tried,” I admitted, staring down at my hands. “He wasn’t available.”

Had I really tried, though? I had gone to his place, sure, but it wasn’t like he had made an effort to come find me either. He’d called several times, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer. Talking to him felt like a dangerous gamble—one that could unravel all the self-control I’d managed to muster.

“It doesn’t matter now,” I said firmly, my voice rising. “I’m dating Gift. Things are going well. Just leave it.”

A heavy silence fell over the room.

“When are you introducing her to us?” Pink finally asked, her tone softening as she shifted gears.

“I was thinking we could all go out this weekend,” I said, scanning their faces. I needed their support, their understanding. I couldn’t keep revisiting the past—I had to move forward, even if it wasn’t easy.

“Sounds good,” Pink replied, waving a hand dismissively. “Should we try to get Benz to come too?”

“I’ll let him know,” I said with a sigh. “It’s up to him if he joins or not. Pushing him won’t help—he’ll come around when he’s ready.”

Pink nodded, though her expression suggested she knew more than she was letting on. That was just her way—always one step ahead, always carrying some secret.

The conversation shifted after that, and Turbo surprised us all by mentioning a solo project he was working on with Ice. Even Pink hadn’t seen that coming. Turbo shrugged it off, claiming it wasn’t a big deal and that they just clicked musically.

As for Big, he stayed mostly quiet, the tension around him subtle but present. Whatever was going on in his personal life, he wasn’t ready to share, and none of us pushed him.

For the rest of the evening, we avoided the heavier topics and simply enjoyed each other’s company. For now, that was enough.

It was late by the time they decided to leave. While Turbo and Big headed out, I stayed behind in my little studio, planning to work for a while longer. As Pink lingered, I noticed the weight in her expression. She looked sad, like she was carefully assembling her thoughts before speaking.

“Song, I know you’re having a hard time, even if you don’t want to admit it,” she began.

I opened my mouth to protest, but she raised a hand, cutting me off before I could get a word out.

“I understand why you’re going out with Gift,” she continued, her voice gentle but firm. “But you’re not happy. No matter how much you try to fool us—or yourself—we can all see it. If you want to move on from Idol, you need to let go of the past. And you’re not going to let it go unless you talk to him.”

I tried to interject, but she interrupted again, her determination overriding my feeble attempts to push back.

“Milk told me yesterday that Idol is being an absolute brat. He’s driving everyone insane because you’re not answering his calls.”

My gaze dropped to the floor, my toe absently kicking at the ground. I felt a pang of guilt and an overwhelming urge to retreat into the bubble I’d created—a bubble where he didn’t call, so I wasn’t technically ignoring him. But Pink had just burst that fragile illusion.

“Pick up when he calls,” she pressed, her tone brooking no argument. “Tell him why you stopped seeing him. The self-centered asshole doesn’t deserve to be ghosted, even if he probably deserves a lot of other things.”

Her words hit harder than I wanted to admit. Finally, I nodded, resignation settling over me. “I’ll talk to him if he calls,” I promised, my voice barely above a whisper.

Satisfied, Pink gave me a small smile before turning to chase after the others, undoubtedly securing herself a ride home.

Now alone, I turned to my computer. The screen flickered from black to white, revealing my desktop. I sat staring at it, absentmindedly tracing the outline of my thoughts as a painful knot tightened in my stomach. My eyes drifted to the folder labeled Idiot.

Without thinking, I clicked it open. The screen filled with videos, photos, and audio files—all of Idol.

Not exactly the healthiest coping mechanism, but ever since LuminX had left for their tour two weeks ago, I’d been scouring fan sites, saving whatever snippets I could find. Pictures. Videos. Interviews. I couldn’t seem to stop. When I was alone, I’d revisit the folder, sometimes finding inspiration for a song. Those songs inevitably ended up in the same folder.

I couldn’t decide who the real idiot was—him or me.

With a heavy sigh, I shut the computer down. The thought of working suddenly felt unbearable. Instead, I decided to head home and go to bed early.

Tomorrow, I had a date with Gift. She wanted to spend the day at the beach, and I figured it might be a good distraction.

A week later, my friends had met Gift, and unsurprisingly, they all approved. She was her usual charming and kind self, effortlessly putting everyone at ease. Gift never made offhanded or offensive comments, never joked at someone else’s expense, and never caused discomfort. She was understanding, funny, thoughtful—an all-around incredible person.

Too good for me.

I couldn’t help but wonder what was wrong with her. Surely, no one could be this perfect. But as the days turned into weeks, nothing alarming came to light. Gift was just... Gift.

She had even spent the night at my place for the first time.

Safe. Comfortable. Predictable. Gift.

Idol still hadn’t called. The promise I’d made to Pink had all but slipped my mind, replaced by the steady rhythm of my budding relationship with Gift. And then, just as I was getting used to that routine, it happened.

In the middle of a crowded hallway at Aurelia Entertainment, my phone started ringing.

Shit.

I muttered a string of curses under my breath, glancing around. This was not the place for a private conversation. My chest tightened as my heart pounded in an uncomfortable rhythm. I wasn’t ready for this. Would I ever be ready? Probably not.

Better to get it over with.

I slipped through the nearest door, which happened to lead to our storage room. Of all places. Perfect.

After locking the door behind me, I stared at my phone for a long moment before finally answering.

“Song?” Idol’s voice came through, steady but tinged with something I couldn’t quite place. “Talk to me, Song.”

“I’m here,” I forced out, my voice barely audible.

There was a pause. When I didn’t say more, he spoke again, this time with a sharper edge.

“You’ve been ignoring me.” It wasn’t a question. He sounded angry—hurt, even.

“I...” My words caught in my throat. How could I explain everything? How could I explain anything? It felt wrong to do this over the phone, but I had no choice. “My parents set me up with someone. A girl they want me to marry. I didn’t know how to tell you.”

It was only a half-truth.

I clenched my fist and silently cursed myself. How hard was it to say what I really felt? Why couldn’t I just tell him the truth?

Silence.

“You should have told me,” he said finally, his voice low and strained.

“I’m sorry,” I replied, guilt and frustration bubbling under the surface. “I didn’t mean to hide it from you. But you’ve been busy—with the tour, with Coco, with everything.”

That, at least, was the truth.

“We’ll talk about this when I get back next week,” he said, his tone clipped.

Talk about what? Annoyance flared in me. Why was he acting like this was some negotiation? Like I was a child who needed guidance? This wasn’t about deciding whether I should stay with Gift or go back to being his convenient secret.

“No,” I said, my voice firm. “I told you, I’m dating Gift now. We had fun, but it’s over. Let’s leave it at that. Goodbye, Idol.”

Before he could respond, I ended the call.

I stayed there in the dark for what felt like hours, the silence wrapping around me like a suffocating blanket. When my phone buzzed again, Pink’s voice on the other end finally pulled me out of my spiraling thoughts.