"...Goodbye, Idol."

The line went dead before I could say another word. Rage surged through me, uncontainable. My phone was out of my hand before I realized it, smashing against the wall and landing on the floor in a broken heap.

Goddammit.

The energy coursing through me demanded release. I paced the room, my mind a whirlwind of questions. Dating? Song was dating someone? How could he start something so serious without even telling me?

I’d been in a foul mood since the tour began, and now I understood why. Something had been off, and I hadn’t been able to put my finger on it until now. My frustration only grew as I pictured the look on God’s face when he saw the shattered phone.

Shit.

The anger burning in my chest was worse than before the call. We’d had a great time together—didn’t we? Why would Song throw it all away? Our arrangement had been perfect: private, uncomplicated, and completely free of commitment. Who let their parents set them up in this day and age anyway? None of it made sense.

In a burst of frustration, I kicked a chair, sending it skidding across the room.

The door burst open, and King stormed in, his expression a mixture of confusion and irritation. He took in the scene—me pacing, the phone in pieces, the overturned chair—and immediately started yelling.

“What the hell is wrong with you lately?” His voice was loud, more bewildered than angry.

“It’s nothing,” I snapped, my jaw clenched so tight the words barely escaped.

King didn’t look convinced. He was gearing up for another outburst when God appeared, calm as always. He rested a hand on King’s shoulder, gently steering him out of the room before things could escalate.

“No, I don’t want to talk about it,” I growled, my voice low and dangerous.

God didn’t flinch. He never did. That was the thing about him—he had this unnerving way of staying calm no matter what chaos surrounded him. He was the group’s mediator, the one who could smooth over any conflict.

“You’re making everyone miserable,” he said, his tone steady but firm. “You’re breaking things, missing beats in choreo, forgetting lyrics. This isn’t like you, Idol. Either you tell me what’s going on, or I’ll cancel the rest of the tour.”

My gaze snapped to his, and I knew he meant it. God didn’t make empty threats.

“Fuck you,” I muttered, slumping into a chair in defeat.

God took a seat across from me, his calm demeanor only making me more irritated. He locked eyes with me, and I felt cornered. There was no getting out of this.

“Song finally picked up the phone,” I muttered, scratching the back of my head. The words felt heavy, and I hated admitting them out loud. “He said he’s dating someone. His parents set him up or something. It all sounded like bullshit.”

God’s expression didn’t change. “You were never dating Song, Idol,” he pointed out. “But you’re acting like you caught your boyfriend cheating.”

“Don’t start with the ‘I told you so’ routine,” I warned, glaring at him. My headache was setting in now, a dull throb at my temples. “He didn’t tell me about it before we left. The only reason he even answered my call is that I made Milk talk to Pink.”

“Idol, if he’s dating someone, you need to let it go,” God said, his voice firm but not unkind. “You don’t want a relationship, and he clearly does. It’s not fair for you to keep him from moving on.”

“Who said I didn’t want a relationship?” I muttered, more to myself than to him.

God rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he said. “You’ve never wanted to date anyone before. That’s why you’ve got this whole fake-dating thing with Coco. You’ve made it clear you think relationships are messy and complicated. So what’s changed?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t have an answer. All I knew was that I didn’t want Song dating anyone else. I wanted...what? For us to just stay in this strange, undefined space? To keep things simple, exclusive, just between us?

God’s voice broke through my thoughts. “There’s nothing you can do about it right now. Focus on finishing the tour. Talk to him when we get back.”

I nodded, though my mind was elsewhere. God was right—the conversation was over for now. But I’d make sure it wasn’t the last one.

When we got back, I’d talk to Song. And I wouldn’t let him shut me out again.

__________________________________

We were finally home. After a grueling month of nonstop touring, the weight of exhaustion hit me the second we stepped off the plane. King vanished as soon as we touched the ground, muttering something about important plans.

Day slipped away shortly after. That left Ice, God, and me heading back to Company X’s building. We arrived earlier than planned to avoid the inevitable crowd. The back entrance offered a quiet escape, and I was grateful for the smooth return. The past month had drained us all.

We barely made it to the cafeteria when Turbo appeared, looking like he’d been waiting for us.

“Hey!” His cheerful voice was grating to my overtired ears. His gaze lingered on Ice, who stood beside us, as calm and detached as ever.

“Hey, Turbo. What’s up?” God greeted him with his usual polite warmth.

I crossed my arms, already over the conversation. My patience was thin, and if anyone knew where to find Song, it was Turbo. That was all I cared about.

“You guys look awful. Shouldn’t you go home and rest?” Turbo frowned, his concern seemingly genuine.

I rolled my eyes. Rest? After a month away, there was no way I could sleep. Not when I was so restless to see someone in particular. God must have sensed my irritation because he cut in before I could answer with something biting.

“We just have a few things to handle before heading home,” God explained, his tone calm.

Turbo shrugged, his attention drifting back to Ice. Ice gave him a subtle nod—a silent signal I didn’t care to interpret. Turbo seemed to understand, and they left together without another word.

At any other time, I might’ve questioned what they were sneaking off to do, but right now, I couldn’t be bothered.

“Oi, where’s Song?” I called out to Turbo before he disappeared completely.

Turbo paused, his brows knitting together. “He’s upstairs, but—”

I didn’t wait for him to finish. Waving him off, I turned and bolted toward the elevator. Song’s studio was upstairs, which was perfect.

Behind me, I heard God’s steady footsteps as he caught up. In the elevator, his worried stare was practically burning a hole in my back.

“Say what you want to say or get lost,” I muttered, annoyed.

“I think you should wait to talk to Song,” God said carefully.

I scoffed, turning to him with a humorless laugh. “I’ve already waited a month.”

“It’s not a good time. Turbo said—”

The elevator doors slid open, cutting him off, and there was Song, standing right in front of us.

“Idol,” he said, his voice tinged with shock. His wide eyes met mine, and I felt a rush of something I couldn’t name. He looked good. Too good. The faint blush creeping up his ears made my hand lift on its own to touch him, but I caught myself just in time.

Then I noticed her.

Standing beside him was a petite girl in a pastel pink dress that only added to her girl-next-door charm. Her chubby cheeks dimpled as she smiled politely. My gaze dropped to their hands, clasped together.

His girlfriend.

“Good to see you again, Song,” God said smoothly, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder, squeezing lightly. A silent warning to keep calm.

“This is God and Idol,” Song said, gesturing between us. “This is my girlfriend, Gift.”

Girlfriend.

“Nice to meet you,” she said sweetly, her voice matching her look. It was saccharine enough to make my stomach churn. “Song’s told me all about you!”

I snorted at that. She thought she knew him? In a month? No way.

God nudged me sharply, breaking my spiraling thoughts. Begrudgingly, I greeted her with a stiff, reluctant nod. Song’s gaze lingered on me, trying to gauge my reaction. I met his stare with a subtle tilt of my chin, a silent message: we’re talking, whether you like it or not.

“Gift, why don’t you go downstairs with God and grab something to drink? I need to talk to Idol alone,” Song said, smiling at her.

She didn’t seem the least bit fazed by being dismissed, nodding easily before squeezing his hand one last time. Annoying.

“Well, looks like we’re heading down together,” she said brightly to God.

God smiled back, always the charmer. I gagged internally at the sight. Of course, he was already smitten. Gift was exactly his type.

As they walked away, I followed Song back to his studio, the tension between us thick and unspoken.

Once the door shut, I couldn’t hold back any longer. I stepped closer to him, the look on his face stripping me of what little self-control I had left. I grabbed his face and crushed our lips together.

The resistance was immediate. He pushed, punched, fought against me. But I couldn’t let go—wouldn’t—until a sharp pain shot through my lip.

“Fuck!” I hissed, stumbling back. He’d bitten me, and hard. My fingers came away with a smear of blood.

“What part of ‘GIRLFRIEND’ don’t you understand?!” Song yelled, his face flushed with anger.

“What the hell gave you the right to get a girlfriend?!” I shot back, the words spilling out in frustration.

“You’re such a child!” he groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Stop acting like someone took away your favorite toy and grow up!”

I clenched my fists at his words, anger bubbling dangerously close to the surface.

“Why do you even care?” Song’s voice dropped, quieter now. He crossed his arms, his gaze fixed on the floor. “You can find someone else to mess around with. I’m not special.”

My throat tightened. Let me touch you.

I moved toward him again, but his sharp glare stopped me in my tracks.

“Don’t,” he warned, his voice low.

“You’re special,” I said, the words firmer than I expected. “Believe whatever you want, but I don’t go around fucking everything that moves. Why her? Why are you with her? She thinks she’s special to you...”

“She is,” Song said, meeting my gaze. “And I told her about us. She knows everything. She trusts me.”

His words hit harder than I anticipated. He’d told her?

All the emotions I’d been holding back boiled over. My fist collided with the wall, leaving a dent. Song flinched at the sound.

“Why didn’t you talk to me sooner?!” I demanded, my voice shaking.

“I tried,” he said quietly. “I went to your place. You were with Coco...she kissed you, and you didn’t stop her. So I left.”

The memory was hazy, blurred by exhaustion and distraction. Maybe she had kissed me—I didn’t know.

“Fine,” I muttered, my voice hollow.

“Idol,” Song said softly, almost pleading.

I shook my head, unable to face him any longer. Without another word, I turned and left.

The universe must hate me. As I walked down the hall, God and Gift appeared, laughing together like old friends.

“I’m going home,” I said flatly, not bothering to mask my bleeding lip or my exhaustion.

I ignored the curious look Gift gave me and walked away, ready to leave it all behind—for now.