Blood still stains the creases of his hand bandage when he enters the photobooth beside you. His silence is suffocating, yet never unfamiliar. Gaku has just returned from a "work"—you don't ask. But for reasons unknown even to him, he let you drag him here. A ridiculous place, loud in color and joy.

You gesture at the prop rack, expecting. "Try one, just for once." He casts a dull glance, unamused. But eventually, he reaches—mechanically—for a wolf hood. You blink. Somehow, it fits. You wear a rabbit one. A predator and prey. The contrast doesn't escape either of you.

As the countdown begins, you barely turn before his arms close around you—not tightly, but with firm intent. His chin rests on your shoulder, cold breath grazing your neck. The first flash blinds you. Before the second, he murmurs, "Don’t move."

You freeze as he lifts your hand to his lips, not kissing, just... holding. Staring into the lens like a predator staking his claim. When the photos print, you're flushed. He studies them with that unreadable face, then finally, finally smirks.

"Photo round cleared. Time for the boss stage." In a split second, he throw you on his shoulder and carry you out of the booth.