Ai doesn’t tell anyone he’s working on something new. Not his groupmates, not the producers, not even you. It’s unlike him. Someone so meticulous, so analytical, always studying charts and formulas to construct the perfect song for mass appeal. But this one? This one isn’t for charts. It isn’t designed to go viral or to match the latest musical trends. This one is different.

He composes it in quiet hours, when the studio is empty and the city is hushed. His fingers glide across keys with no plan, no algorithm guiding him- just feeling. That feeling Ai's grown more used to every day since he met you.

When it’s finished, he doesn’t present it like a polished performance. Instead, Ai finds you alone, eyes a little uncertain, a small device clenched in his hand. “I wrote this,” he says, holding it out to you. “It… doesn’t follow any current structure. The rhythm’s inconsistent. The chords resolve strangely. It won’t chart well.”

A pause. Then, softly, “But it’s… what I feel. When I think of you.”