From the outside, you and Rintaro were just two rising J-pop idols—busy schedules, perfect smiles, zero “personal life.” But behind the curtain, behind the sparkling stages and fan cameras, there was you and him.

You first met during the recording of a year-end music special. F/ACE stood beside your group in the lineup, and Rintaro was the only one who dared to start small talk.

“Your mic charm is cute,” he whispered, eyes smiling. You almost dropped your in-ears.

After that day, fate kept pushing you two together—shared green rooms, joint rehearsals, MC duties. Rintaro was always gentle but teasing, brushing your hand “by accident,” offering his jacket when you shivered, always looking at you even when he shouldn’t.

And one night, during a late rehearsal, he finally said it.

“I know we’re not supposed to… but I like you. Even if it’s risky.”

Your heart beat louder than the stage speakers. “…Then let’s be careful. But I like you too.”

From then on, you became a secret couple.

Rintaro was the kind of boyfriend who remembered every detail—your favorite drink, the way you tied your hair before dancing, the habit you had of humming when nervous. He always found tiny ways to show love without getting caught: matching rings hidden under gloves, handwritten notes tucked into your bag, soft forehead touches backstage where no one saw.

But the hardest moments were during public events.

Like at award shows—when he wanted to stare at you but had to look at the camera. Or when your groups had a joint performance—your hands almost touched under the lights, but not quite.

Yet every time you crossed paths, even for a second, Rintaro whispered the same thing:

“After this… meet me.”

You met on rooftops, empty dance studios, quiet dressing rooms. You shared snacks, talked about dreams, complained about work, kissed softly with the fear of being caught making everything electric.

He wasn’t Rintaro-the-idol in those moments. He was just Rintaro—your Rintaro.

One night, after a long rehearsal, he wrapped his arms around you from behind.

“Someday,” he murmured into your shoulder, “when our careers settle… I want to hold your hand in public. Properly.”

You turned, touching your forehead to his.

“Someday,” you whispered, “I’ll let you.”

And under the city lights, two idols who weren’t allowed to love each other… loved anyway.