The Song No One Knows
The studio was quiet, dark except for the blue LED light under the mixing board.
It was 2 a.m., and Minji sat alone, hoodie over his head, eyes half-lidded from exhaustion
but fingers still pressing chords on his keyboard.
Hana's laugh was still in his ears, echoing gently.
The way her nose crinkled when she smiled.
The way she saw right through the glittering mask the world made him wear.
He didn't write for the public tonight. Not for fans. Not for his label.
He wrote for her.
The melody was soft.
A piano line that felt like falling slowly. Like holding hands under cherry blossoms.
Like breathing in peace, even if only for a second.
He whispered the lyrics into the mic, eyes closed:
> You held my name like a whisper,
In a world that only screamed.
I wore a thousand faces,
But you saw the one beneath.
> And if the world forgets me,
Let it forget.
As long as somewhere,
You remember.
He paused, breath catching. His fingers trembled slightly as he added one more line to the chorus:
> You are the song no one knows,
But the only one I want to sing.
He sat back, tears stinging quietly behind his eyes. For the first time in years, he didn't feel like a product. He felt like a person. A man in love.
He saved the track as "H.M_001."
It would never be released.
But it was real.
And in a world like his, that meant everything.
__________________________
The rooftop of Hana's tiny apartment building wasn't much, a rusting water tank, a single wooden bench, and a view half-obstructed by concrete walls.
But to them, it was freedom.
Minji had snuck in after dark, hoodie low, mask up, like always.
Hana had left the gate to the rooftop open and two cups of warm banana milk waiting.
They sat together, legs stretched out, her head leaning on his shoulder.
"I missed this," he said.
"You were here two days ago," she laughed softly.
"I know," he murmured. "Still."
She looked up at him. "Your eyes look tired."
"They always are."
They sat in silence, the breeze ruffling their hair.
Then Minji shifted, hesitating. His fingers brushed his bag, pulling out a small pair of studio headphones.
"I wrote something," he said quietly.
"For you. I haven't shown it to anyone. Not even my producer."
Hana blinked. "You wrote me a song?"
He nodded.
His hands shook as he gently placed the headphones over her ears.
She closed her eyes.
As the piano started, her breath caught.
His voice followed not as Minji the idol, but as Minjun, stripped bare.
The words poured in like warm rain.
> You are the song no one knows,
But the only one I want to sing.
Her eyes welled up before the final chord faded.
When she pulled the headphones down, she stared at him, quiet, breathless.
"Minjun…"
He didn't speak. He just looked at her, all the noise falling away.
Then gently, cautiously, he leaned in.
She met him halfway.
It was slow. Reverent. A kiss held not in passion but in gratitude. Two souls meeting in a place the world couldn't reach.
When they pulled apart, she was smiling through her tears.
"I see you," she whispered.
And for the first time in a long time, Minji believed it.