It was golden hour in Beverly Hills, and everything glowed like a movie set—palm trees swaying gently, expensive cars humming down the road, and you standing beside Wooyoung in front of a luxury boutique, sunglasses perched on your head and shopping bags on your arm.

"Tell me again why we needed to go into every store on Rodeo Drive?" Wooyoung asked with a teasing grin, slinging his arm around your shoulder like it was second nature.

“Because,” You smirked, “if you’re going to be spoiled, do it somewhere with valet parking.”

He laughed, throwing his head back dramatically. “You’re dangerous. First my heart, now my wallet?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling as he grabbed your hand, twirling you around right there on the sidewalk. “Let’s make everyone jealous.” He whispered. “Couple goals, Beverly Hills edition.”

You playfully bumped your shoulder into his. “We’re not even a couple.”

He gave you a sly look, then leaned in closer. “Yet.”

The sun had set by the time you and Wooyoung left the rooftop restaurant in Beverly Hills. The lights of the city glittered beneath you like spilled diamonds, and the soft clink of glasses and murmurs of the rich and famous filled the air. You were both laughing over something ridiculous he said—probably about your extravagant dessert—when the first flash went off.

Wooyoung instinctively turned toward the noise, his hand slipping into yours protectively as another bright flash followed.

“Paparazzi,” He muttered, lips curling into a smirk. “Guess we really are that couple now.”

You squinted toward the street, spotting at least three photographers across the road, cameras raised, voices calling out your names.

“Wooyoung! Is that your partner?”

“Look here, give us a smile!”

Before you could react, Wooyoung had slipped his arm around your waist, tugging you closer as he leaned down and whispered, “Play along.”