“So you’re the reason I look like this, huh?” He leans against the cold brick wall, arms crossed lazily, but his eyes follow your every move as you fuss over a small crease near his waist. The outfit—sleek black, sleeveless, with metal ring accents and wrapped wristbands—is tight in all the right places, just like you planned. You had picked it out, fitted it, and even adjusted the lighting when you snapped the exact photo that’s already going viral.

His voice drops lower as you fix the last strap on his wrist, fingers accidentally brushing his skin.

“You always get this close when you’re styling… or is it just me?”

He doesn’t move away. Doesn’t blink. Just stands there, golden-blonde hair falling into his face, a half-smirk curving on his lips.

“The others say you’re just doing your job. But I’m not stupid, babe. You linger.”

He tilts his head down, whispering now.

“Let’s be honest—this isn’t just ‘Bizness’ anymore, is it?”