Our Little Secret Song

Ellise blair POV The glowing screen of my phone was the only light in my room. My best friend, Amara, was already sleeping beside me, her soft snores mixing with the sound of rain tapping against the window. Lucky her. She could fall asleep instantly after a movie marathon. Me? I was doomed to overthinking in the middle of the night. Especially because right now, at exactly 2:07 a.m. I was staring at a direct message draft to Renji Sage. Yes, that Renji Sage. Stage name: Ren. Lead vocalist of AUREN, the boy group half the world was in love with. The AUREN poster on Amara's side of the wall practically glared at me as if to say, Seriously, Ellise? You? DM-ing him? “Shut up,” I whispered to the poster. Amara stirred, and I froze. She’d never let me live it down if she found out. I’d never hear the end of it. She was the type who screamed during music video premieres and cried over limited-edition photocards. I liked Renji, sure, but in a quieter way. At least, I thought it was quiet. Right now, it felt anything but. My thumb hovered over the send button. On my screen glowed the simple, almost embarrassingly plain message I’d typed. > You probably won’t ever see this… but don’t skip meals, okay? Even idols need to eat. I groaned softly, flopping back into my blanket. Out of all the things I could’ve written, I picked… don’t skip meals? Really, Ellise? That was my grand opening line? Not “I love your music,” not “Your smile saved me,” not even “Hi.” Nope. I chose to sound like his nagging aunt. My brain started spiraling. What if, by some miracle, he saw it? Would he laugh? Would he roll his eyes? Would he screenshot it and show his members? I covered my face with my pillow. “Nope. Nope. This is so stupid.” But my heart wouldn’t stop racing. Because the truth was, I admired him. Not just for being gorgeous—though let’s be honest, Renji was unfairly good-looking—but for the way he carried himself on stage. He looked untouchable, like the kind of person who could never possibly notice someone like me. And maybe that was why I wanted to send the message. Because deep down, I knew he wouldn’t reply. It was safe. “This is harmless,” I muttered. “He’ll never see it anyway.” Still, my thumb hesitated. Delete? Or send? I chewed my lip, glancing at Amara's sleeping form. If she were awake, she’d probably snatch the phone from my hand and press send for me. So before I could change my mind, I whispered to myself: “Just send it, coward.” And I pressed send. The little whoosh sound effect sealed my fate. “Oh my god,” I hissed, burying my face into the pillow. My legs kicked under the blanket like they had to physically release the embarrassment from my body. “I actually did it. I sent it. Oh my god.” Amara snorted in her sleep, muttering, “Bubble tea…” before rolling onto her side. I peeked at my phone again. No notifications. No dots indicating typing. Nothing. “Of course,” I muttered. “He probably won’t even see it. He’s an idol, Ellise. An idol. He’s not scrolling through his DMs like some bored college student.” I tried to laugh at myself, but my cheeks were burning. I locked my phone and shoved it under my pillow. That was it. Done. Forgotten. One silly message tossed into the void. At least, that’s what I thought. ——— Renji’s POV The rehearsal room smelled faintly of sweat and floor polish. The air conditioner hummed, a poor attempt to cool down the heat left behind after hours of practice. Everyone else had already gone home. My groupmates were probably showering or passed out on their beds by now. My manager’s voice filtered faintly from outside as he argued with someone on the phone. And me? I was still here. Sitting alone on the bench, hunched over, sweat-soaked shirt clinging to my back. I tilted my head back, staring at the ceiling. My throat felt raw, my legs heavy. My reflection in the mirror across the room stared back at me—Renji Sage, the perfect idol. Or at least, that’s what they all wanted to see. Perfect smile. Perfect voice. Perfect image. I unlocked my phone out of habit. Notifications exploded across the screen—mentions, tags, DMs, endless waves of Oppa! I love you! and Notice me! I scrolled, half-reading, half-ignoring. It wasn’t that I hated it. I was grateful. But it all blurred together after a while. My thumb was already hovering over the lock button when something caught my eye. A message. Plain. Unremarkable. Just one line. > You probably won’t ever see this… but don’t skip meals, okay? Even idols need to eat. I blinked. That was it? No confessions of eternal love? No proposals? Just… don’t skip meals? I frowned. My first instinct was to swipe past it. Delete. Forget it. But instead, I read it again. And again. Simple. Almost ordinary. But something about the tone… it was different. It wasn’t demanding. It wasn’t idol-worship. It was—what? Concern? My lips twitched into the smallest of smiles before I quickly shoved my phone back into my pocket. I was exhausted. That had to be it. That’s why a random stranger’s message was stuck in my head. Still, as I left the rehearsal room, her words echoed louder than the cheers I’d heard all day. Don’t skip meals, okay? I shook my head. “Weird.” But for the first time that night, I didn’t feel quite so tired.