That day, for the first time, I wasn't Noah's fan.
I was his girlfriend.
And the first people in the world to find that out weren't me or Noah.
It was the fans.
12:30 PM.
I was on my way back after lunch at the office.
My phone kept ringing.
If it had been once or twice, I would have checked it, but for some reason today was especially bad. When the vibration stopped, it rang again, and when it went quiet for a moment, the screen lit up again.
In the end, I didn't check it.
I only took my phone out of my pocket after I got on the elevator.
Seventeen messages.
Four missed calls.
And the last text that came in.
[Noah] Did you see the article?
The moment I saw that short sentence, my heart reacted before I did.
I opened the search bar.
Before I even typed his name, the search term was already there.
PLAVE Noah dating rumor
My fingers stopped.
The elevator doors opened.
People passed by me.
I couldn't move a single step.
Someone held the door as it was about to close again.
“Aren't you getting on?”
“Ah, yes.”
I got off a beat late.
Leaning against the window at the end of the hall, I opened the article.
The title was glaringly clear.
[Exclusive] PLAVE Noah rumored to be dating a non-celebrity woman... drawing attention ahead of 10th anniversary concert
Below it were three attached photos.
The first was in front of a cafe.
The second, at a crosswalk.
The third, on a rainy street.
I stopped at the third photo.
There were two people under an umbrella.
A man with a black cap pulled low, and a woman walking tightly beside him.
Noah in the photo wasn't looking at the camera.
He was looking at me.
To be exact, he was looking at me while holding my elbow so I wouldn't slip.
That hand was clearly caught in the photo.
I didn't zoom in.
I already knew.
That day.
The day we were leaving the place we'd been going to for three years and heading home.
The day Noah kept lecturing me for not bringing an umbrella even after seeing the forecast said it would rain.
In the end, he brought his own umbrella and held it almost entirely over my side, worried I'd get wet.
There was a short caption under the photo.
The two are known to have been dating for several months.
Several months.
I stared at those words for a long time.
And then I laughed.
It wasn't several months. It was three years.
Only two people in the world knew that difference.
Me and Noah.
The comments were already piling up fast.
If it's true, why drop it right before the concert?
They're saying the other person is a civilian; I'm worried their personal info will get leaked.
Just looking at the photos, they seem like friends to me.
No, anyone can see that's dating.
I'm more shocked that Noah would look at someone like that.
I turned off the screen.
I didn't want to read anymore.
But my phone rang again.
This time it was a call.
It didn't take long to check the name on the screen.
Noah.
I didn't answer.
The ringing stopped.
A moment later it rang again.
I didn't answer the second time either.
When the third call came, I finally pressed the call button.
“Why.”
“Did you see it?”
His voice was lower than usual.
“Yeah.”
“...I'm sorry.”
I closed my eyes.
“Why are you sorry?”
“For getting photographed.”
“It's not your fault.”
“I know.”
“Then that's that.”
It went quiet for a moment.
Through the phone, I heard the sound of someone opening and closing a door.
It was probably the practice room.
“Where are you?”
“At the office.”
“Is it crowded?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you alone?”
“Why?”
There was no answer.
I turned my gaze to the window.
“Noah.”
“Yeah. Talk.”
“Let's meet today.”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
I could feel him suck in a breath for a second.
“Why.”
“If you move now, it'll get photographed even more.”
“I don't care.”
“I do.”
This time, he didn't say anything.
I lowered my voice a little.
“You have the concert this week.”
“I know.”
“It's the 10th anniversary.”
“I know.”
“So don't do anything right now.”
“Anything?”
“Yeah.”
“Then us too?”
I couldn't answer.
The silence stretched.
He asked first.
“What do you mean?”
“Just... let's stay apart for a little while.”
This time, I really heard nothing at all.
Just as I was about to check the screen, wondering if the call had dropped.
“No.”
His voice came through.
Low and quiet.
I pressed my lips together.
“Noah.”
“I said no.”
“You know what the situation is right now.”
“I know.”
“There are fans and the company, and you are right now—”
“I know everything.”
“Then why.”
It took a long time for him to answer.
“I hate it more if you disappear.”
I couldn't say anything.
I hadn't expected him to say something like that.
No.
To be precise, I hadn't expected him to say it like that without any warning.
Noah wasn't someone who showed his feelings easily.
At least not to me.
Instead of saying he liked something, he'd remember it and buy me what I liked one day, and instead of saying he missed me, he'd tell me to text him when I got home.
Even when he didn't say he was having a hard time, he'd sigh if I noticed.
That kind of person was telling me now.
That he hated disappearing.
I looked at my face reflected in the window.
“I hate it too.”
I barely got those words out.
“But I'm scared.”
“Of what?”
“That people will start looking for me now.”
There was no answer.
“Not you. Me.”
“……”
“I'm scared your fans will look for me, and my name will come up, and they'll try to find out everything about who I am.”
He was silent for a long time.
Then he said quietly,
“I'll stop it.”
“How.”
“I'll find a way.”
“Noah.”
“Yeah.”
“Don't say it so easily.”
“I'm not saying it easily.”
His voice hardened a little.“I know that too.”
At that, I fell silent.
He let out a long breath.
“That's why I hate it even more.”
“What do.”
“You getting scared because of me.”
We didn't end up meeting that day.
I went home, and Noah stayed in the practice room.
And a little after 11 p.m., the company's official statement went up.
“It's difficult to confirm due to matters related to the artist's private life.”
It was an ambiguous sentence.
Not a denial.
Not an acknowledgement.
But people made more than enough stories out of that one line.
I lay in bed and stared at the screen.
Noah didn't contact me at all.
I didn't either.
Then an hour passed,
two hours passed.
After 1 a.m., my phone rang once.
It was a text.
[Noah] Are you asleep?
I replied after a long while.
[Me] No.
A reply came within seconds.
[Noah] Good.
[Me] Why?
For a long time, the typing bubble appeared and disappeared.
Appeared.
Disappeared.
And then, finally, the sentence that arrived.
[Noah] Because I kept thinking about the last thing you said today.
[Me] What did I say?
This time, no reply came.
I put my phone down.
But just before I fell asleep, it vibrated again.
[Noah] That we should break up.
A little later, one more came.
[Noah] Don't say that.
I stared at the screen.
And for the first time that day, I realized something.
There was something scarier than the dating rumor breaking.
No matter what we chose from here on out, we could never go back to how things were before.
.
